The Long Road Home
by blucougar57
Summary: Bobby's past comes back to haunt him, bringing unforeseen dangers. Finished.
1. Prologue

_**A/N: **This is a project that has been on my mind for a long time, almost since I first started seriously writing Criminal Intent fanfics. Whether anyone will like the premise, I don't know, but the story is begging to be written. __In order for it to seem plausible, though, I have to outlay some groundwork, specifically with regard to time lines._

_This is a cross-over between two of my all-time favourite shows, **Law & Order: Criminal Intent**, and **The Pretender**. For the purposes of this story, I've determined the following.  
Jarod's age in **The Pretender** was never specified. Going by the opening credits, which states that Jarod was acquired by The Centre in 1963, and the images of him as a child in the premiere episode, I've judged him to be perhaps five years old at the time. Given that we know Bobby's birth date is August 11, 1961, this would make Jarod two to three years older than Bobby.  
I estimate that Jarod was approximately 37 years old when he escaped The Centre in 1996. This story is set approximately 10 years after his escape..._

_Rating: T (for now)_

_Disclaimer: I do not own anything that is Law & Order-related, or anything that is Pretender-related. I only wish I did._

**_-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_**

_**The Centre  
Blue Cove, Delaware  
1968**_

_Young Miss Parker followed Jarod along the corridor, keeping one eye on each door that they passed, as though she expected the creepy Dr Raines to jump out them any moment, and demand to know what they thought they were doing. Jarod had told her about the new boy in the Centre, but that wasn't the first she'd heard of him. She had heard Dr Raines talking to her father about 'Bobby', and how he was 'even more brilliant than Jarod'. _

_She had even stated that to Jarod when he told her that he had finally met Bobby, curious to see how he'd react. To her surprise, Jarod had agreed, saying that Bobby was, indeed, a brilliant child. He was, however, also incredibly lonely and insecure, and desperately in need of friendly company to stave of the grim influence of Dr Raines._

_And so she had agreed when Jarod offered to introduce her to the other boy. After all, she herself knew only too well the acute pain of loneliness._

_They walked into another room that was much like Jarod's, and Miss Parker found herself confronted by a child who looked about as old as them, although Jarod had told her that Bobby was a couple of years younger than them._

"_Hi, Bobby," Jarod greeted the child. "I brought someone to meet you. This is Miss Parker."_

_Bobby looked up at her, and Miss Parker was suddenly struck by the depths in those dark brown eyes. She smiled at him, though she suddenly felt more than a little off-kilter. It was almost as though he was looking through her, rather than at her. It was as if he could see right into her soul._

"_Hi, Bobby. Nice to meet you."_

"_Hi," Bobby answered softly. "Do you live here, too?"_

_She hesitated, then sat down on the bed next to him. _

"_No. My father is in charge. I just spend a lot of time here."_

_Bobby stared intently at her. _

"_But you can leave whenever you want to."_

_Miss Parker looked up at Jarod, who looked just as startled at the statement as she felt._

"_Well… Yes, I guess so…"_

_A shadow fell across them, and they all looked up to see Dr Raines had appeared. He regarded the three children placidly, then looked to Bobby without acknowledging either Jarod or Miss Parker._

"_Time to come with me, Bobby."_

_Both children looked quickly at the younger boy, and neither one missed the distinct spark of fear that lit up his eyes. He stood up, though, resigned to whatever new misery Dr Raines had planned for him. Without a look at Jarod or Miss Parker, Bobby walked out of the room and disappeared around the corner. Raines started after him, then shot the two remaining children a threatening look._

"_Don't be still here when we come back."_

_Then he was gone…_

**_-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_**

_**The Centre,  
Present Day**_

"Miss Parker?"

Parker looked up, startled out of her daydream by a voice that spoke almost directly into her ear. She looked around, glowering at the unfortunate soul who had interrupted her musings.

"Sydney. What do you want?"

There was more bite in her voice than she really intended to put there, but she hated being caught off-guard by anyone, and Sydney somehow managed to do it a little too often.

Sydney regarded her with mild interest.

"You looked as though you were remembering something."

"As a matter of fact, I was, and I don't care to share," she shot back. "Now, if that's all you're here for…"

"Actually, I was sent to find you," Sydney answered. "We've been summoned to a meeting with the Director."

Parker blanched, her usual bitchiness evaporating in the space of a second.

"The Director? Do you know why?"

"I'm assuming it's to do with Jarod."

Parker groaned softly.

"I thought they'd accepted we're not going to get him back. It's been nearly ten years, for God's sake."

Sydney shrugged.

"I don't know for absolute certain. I'm only assuming."

She sighed, and shook her head.

"Well, I suppose we'd better get going. Wouldn't want to keep the Director waiting, would we?"

Sydney watched with a grim smile as she strode past him.

"No," he murmured as he followed. "We certainly wouldn't."

**_-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_**

They arrived to find not only the Director waiting for them, but also Raines and Lyle.

"Madame Director," Sydney greeted her formally. The women in charge of the Delaware branch of the Centre nodded in return.

"Thankyou for coming. Please, sit, all of you."

"If this is about Jarod…" Lyle started to say, but a look from the Director cut him off short.

"No, this is not about Jarod. As you all know, eight years ago the Centre dealt with all the children that had been released from the Centre."

"Killed them off, you mean," Parker said coolly. The Director smiled her piranha-like smile at the other woman.

"If you want to put it like that, Miss Parker, then yes. There is, however, one still out there, and I'm not referring to Jarod."

"Who?" Sydney asked, frowning. The Director nodded to her assistant, who handed a thin file to each of them. Parker opened hers, and started a little as she found herself confronted by the familiar face of the child she had only ever known as 'Bobby'.

"You mean to say, he's still alive?" Sydney asked in astonishment.

"Very much so," Raines rasped. "Look at the next page."

They all turned, and Lyle promptly choked.

"You've got to be kidding. He's a cop now?"

"Not _just_ a cop, Mr Lyle," the Director replied quietly. "He's a detective with the elite Major Case Squad in New York."

"We want him back," Raines stated bluntly, causing Lyle, Parker and Sydney all to look up in astonishment.

"You can't be serious," Sydney said finally. "Chasing after Jarod was one thing, but this man? He's not just jumping from one Pretend to another, like Jarod does. He _is_ a detective with the New York Police Department. We can't simply walk in and take him back!"

The Director looked unsympathetic.

"The 'how' is not my problem, Doctor. That's your problem. Robert Goren was far more brilliant than Jarod ever was. You know that. It's clear that we aren't going to be successful in our efforts to bring Jarod home. We do, however, have a strong chance of reacquiring Robert. Miss Parker and Mr Lyle, you will be leading this operation together. You're to direct your full attention to it. We want Robert back within our keeping as soon as possible. We have many outstanding contracts to fulfil. It is vital that we reacquire him."

"And if he can't be… _secured_?" Sydney asked, not sure he wanted to hear the answer. The Director didn't hesitate.

"It's catch or kill, Doctor. If he can't be reacquired, then he's to be killed. We cannot afford to have as big a liability as that loose in society, especially considering the high public profile that he has attained."

Lyle nodded passively, and stood up.

"Consider it done. We'll fly out to New York today. Parker? Are you coming?"

Parker glanced uneasily at Sydney, then rose up.

"I'm right behind you. Sydney?"

Sydney followed them out of the Director's office, waiting until they were clear before speaking as casually as he could.

"I just need to finish a report. I'll meet you at the airfield."

**_-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_**

Sydney sank into his chair in his office, his head in a spin. Chasing Jarod was one thing. Sydney had always suspected that Jarod would not be caught. If he ever returned to the Centre, it would be only because he wanted to return. But to go after someone who probably had no memory whatsoever of the time he'd spent in the confines of the Centre?

He remembered Bobby with almost painful clarity. The child had been quiet, shy, insecure… and brilliant beyond his years. As the Director had said, Bobby's brilliance had even surpassed Jarod's. The loss had been felt in all quarters when Bobby had gone.

Sydney frowned to himself. Had he been asked, he wouldn't have been able to pinpoint the reasons, but he knew without a doubt that going after Bobby now would be a serious mistake. To attempt to take an adult who had his own life… and a successful career that was watched by people in high places… could only be bad news for the Centre. And then there was the detrimental effect to the man himself.

Sydney had no doubt that Raines had his grubby fingers pushed deep into this particular pie. After all, with the loss of both Kyle _and_ the child who had been cloned with Jarod's DNA, Raines had been desperate for some time now for a new test subject. Sydney wondered just what Raines had in mind for Bobby, and realised that he really didn't want to know.

What he _did_ know was that he was in no position to help Bobby in any way. All he could do was send a message to the one person he knew of who was.

Setting his jaw with grim determination, Sydney leaned forward in his chair, and began to rapidly type out an urgent message to Jarod.

**_-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_**

_Colorado Rockies_

Jarod opened up his laptop computer that evening, looking forward to the possibility of another email from his father. Circumstances dictated that he got to spend precious little time with his father, and so the emails they shared had become a great comfort to Jarod, a reassurance that he was doing all right.

As he waited for the computer to boot up, Jarod looked out of the cabin window at the scenery that surrounded his current location.

He was staying in a mountain cabin that belonged to a friend – one of many people that he'd helped over the years. They had recently offered the use of it to him, and he had accepted gladly. Sometimes, even a genius needed a break.

The computer finished booting up, and Jarod eagerly logged in to his email. Sure enough, there was one from his father. It was a long one, too, by the looks of it.

Jarod hesitated in opening it. There was a second email there, waiting for him. Not from his father, but from one who had been very much like a father to him during the years when he thought he'd had no father. It was an email from Sidney.

Feeling slightly unsettled, wondering why Sidney would be attempting to contact him, Jarod bypassed his father's email, and opened the one from Sidney.

_Jarod, _

_I am taking a tremendous risk in contacting you, but I believe intervention is warranted. I have just been made aware of a plan by The Centre to go after a new individual. This particular individual was a child of The Centre, as you were, but is one of the few children that Catherine Parker successfully helped to escape. You may remember him – his name was Bobby_.

Jarod sucked in his breath sharply. Yes, he remembered Bobby; a child who was physically big for his age, but very quiet, shy and emotionally fragile… and about as brilliant as they came. Jarod recalled Raines had been in a foul mood for months after Bobby's escape from The Centre. He himself had missed his friend. For five years, Bobby's presence in The Centre had meant Jarod had a friend that he could truly relate to, someone that he could talk to about virtually anything, and not have to explain himself in simplified terms. That was something he had never found again.

He read on, his stomach twisting into knots.

_I believe that Raines has been instrumental in this sudden push to reacquire Bobby for the Centre. I do not know what he is planning. I only know that the Director herself has set Miss Parker, Mr Lyle and I the task of tracking Bobby down and recapturing him._

_I'm passing this information on to you, because I truly believe you are Bobby's only chance to avoid whatever fate Raines has in store for him. Please believe me that this is no trick. He is going to need help, and I pray you are able to give it. No one else can help him, and I fear that I will not be in any way effective in diverting Miss Parker and Mr Lyle from their task._

_I cannot provide any more information now, other than the following. God speed… and say hello to Bobby for me, when you find him._

_Robert O Goren, New York City._

_Sidney._

Jarod stared at the name, his heart pounding.

Robert O. Goren… Was this really his friend from so many years ago? There was one way to find out, Jarod hurried through to the bedroom to start packing.

**_-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_**

It didn't take Jarod long to track down the Robert O. Goren Sidney had referred to in his email. A few discreet inquiries pointed him quickly to the New York City Police, and from there it took him very little time to locate Detective Robert Goren, of the NYPD's Major Case Squad.

Somehow, it didn't surprise Jarod that this was the path Bobby had taken, although his very public profile told him that Bobby most likely had no conscious memory of his time in the Centre. If he did, Jarod was sure he would have chosen a more discreet career, one which did not see his face plastered all over the news on such a regular basis.

Jarod smiled to himself as he read through a recent newspaper article in the New York Public Library, and soon found what he was really after – a picture. There he was…

Jarod drew in a long breath. Yes, it was him, without a doubt. Nearly thirty-five years older, but the eyes… Even looking at a black and white photo on microfilm, Jarod recognised those eyes. They were the eyes of someone who had seen far more in their life than they had ever wanted to. They were the eyes of someone who had literally been to hell and back… and had survived.

Sitting back, Jarod became lost in his memories.

**_-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_**

_It was the crying that led him to the boy in the end. Sidney had told him another child had been taken in by the Centre, a child whose parents had cruelly abandoned him. Jarod has asked to meet him, but Sidney had gently told him to wait, that they needed to give the child time to adjust. Jarod had accepted this, if somewhat reluctantly, but the truth was he was eager for new company. _

_He liked Angelo, and young Miss Parker was okay, but neither was a substitute for a real friend. Jarod sincerely hoped that this new child would be just that – a friend._

_In the end, he had gone looking for the newcomer, and had finally found him in another wing on the same floor. Jarod paused just outside the door of the room before walking around and looking in. _

"_Hi."_

_A child looked up at the sound of his voice, wiping quickly at his face. _

"_Who… Who are you?"_

_Jarod took a step closer._

"_My name's Jarod. What's yours?"_

"_Bobby. Are you here for their program too?"_

_Jarod stared at him for a long moment, then walked in all the way and sat down on the bed next to the child._

"_I live here, Bobby. So do you, now."_

_Bobby stiffened next to him._

"_No, I don't. I'm going to go home soon. My dad said so."_

_Sympathy filled Jarod's face as he thought he understood what had happened._

"_Sure," Jarod said gently. "You're right, you'll probably be going home really soon."_

_Bobby looked away, but not before Jarod saw a different truth in the child's eyes, from the one he had just declared. He wasn't going home anytime soon and, deep down, he knew it._

"_How long have you been here?" Bobby asked softly. _

"_I'm not sure," Jarod answered after a moment's hesitation. "I think it's been around three or four years. Time doesn't mean much here."_

_Even as he spoke, he saw Bobby flinch, as though in pain, and his heart went out to the other boy. After a moment's hesitation, he put an arm gently around Bobby's shoulders. _

"_It'll be okay, Bobby. I'll look after you. We can be like brothers, if you want."_

_Bobby looked sideways at Jarod. _

"_I have an older brother. He… He doesn't like me much. He said he doesn't like it that I'm smarter than him."_

_Jarod smiled reassuringly at him._

"_That doesn't matter here, Bobby. It's a good thing that you're smart. It's something we've got in common."_

"_I see you finally found each other."_

_Both boys looked up as Sidney walked in, favouring them both with a warm smile._

"_I'm sorry, Sidney," Jarod apologised. "I know you told me to wait, but…"_

"_It's all right, Jarod. I'm sure Bobby is probably grateful to have someone his own age to talk to. And perhaps you can help to reassure him that we only have his interests at heart."_

"_Why are we here?" Bobby asked softly, staring at Sidney plaintively. "Why am I here?"_

"_Bobby, listen to me," Sidney told him quietly. "Your father sent you with us so that we could look after you."_

"_You mean, until Mom gets better?"_

"_No, Bobby. For good."_

_Bobby sat frozen, and Jarod watched him in concern. _

"_He sent me away… Like… like Mom… Why did he send me away?"_

_Sidney reached across and took Bobby's hand gently in his own. _

"_He does love you, Bobby. He loves you a great deal, and that's why he agreed to let us take you. Your mother isn't going to be getting better. Do you know what schizophrenia is?"_

_Bobby swallowed hard. _

"_No."_

"_It's a degenerative illness of the mind," Sidney explained. "That is what your mother has. Your father wants to be able to look after her, but he couldn't do that and look after you and your brother as well. He didn't want to lose you, but he understands this was the only option. You need to understand that too. Your father had a very difficult decision to make, and in the end he made the choice that would ensure you are all taken care of."_

"_I'm never going home, am I?" Bobby asked in a trembling voice. Sidney looked at him with deep sympathy._

"_Bobby, you **are **__home."_

**_-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_**

Jarod shook himself back to reality. He didn't know what was crueller, that he had been told his parents were dead, or that Bobby had been told his father simply didn't want to look after him. He sighed softly.

He had no idea how Bobby would react to him now, after so many years, but he supposed he was about to find out. Grimacing, he switched off the microfilm machine and headed for the library exit. Time to begin another pretend…

**_-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_**

_tbc..._


	2. Distant Memories

_The Bronx,  
New York City_

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Detective Alex Eames paused in taking a mouthful of hot coffee, glancing with no small amount of amusement at her sleeping partner. They had been on a stakeout now for nearly six hours – a traditional stakeout that involved numb asses from hours stuck in the not-quite-big-enough Ford sedan they'd been given the use of, and loaded up with donuts, coffee and a whole stack of cinnamon buns.

Bobby had argued that the buns defeated the purpose of having donuts, but she'd ignored him. She loved anything with cinnamon, and the buns had been all she could lay her hands on at short notice. So Bobby had eaten the donuts, while she munched on the buns. Now, hours down the track and with no sign of their target, Alex found her attention drawn to her partner.

She had to conced that it was very unlike him to fall asleep at any time when they were on duty. Sure, they were pulling a double shift until Logan and Barek were able to come and relieve them, and granted they were both tired, but it had still thrown her when the sound of soft snoring alerted her to the fact that Bobby had fallen asleep.

She hadn't made any effort to waken him, though, figuring that what Deakins didn't know wouldn't hurt either of them. Deakins, of course, would have had both their hides if he found out. He was a pretty tolerant person as far as police captains went, but even his patience stretched only so far. She could only hope that Logan and Barek gave them some warning of their arrival, and didn't catch them unawares. Alex didn't think Logan would spill to Deakins about Bobby falling asleep while on surveillance. Despite his outward cockiness, Logan was actually a pretty decent guy and a damned fine detective, and he and Bobby seemed to have developed a distinct (if somewhat grudging) respect for each other. However, she didn't know Barek well enough yet to be sure that she wouldn't blab.

Bobby mumbled something incoherently in his sleep, drawing an amused smirk from Alex. Too bad she couldn't understand what he was saying. She could have used it for blackmail later on. He had to be damned tired, though, she thought with renewed sympathy as she returned her gaze to the far side of the street. She recalled that he had looked pretty tired when he arrived at work that morning.

She'd commented on it fairly flippantly… in fact, if she remembered rightly, her words had been something along the lines of 'so who's the lucky lady who kept you up all last night partying?'. His only reply had been a sour look and an unintelligible grunt. She'd not pushed it any further, knowing to leave well enough alone, and after a couple of mugs of very strong coffee Bobby seemed to return to his usual oddball self.

A faint moan caught her attention, and she found herself staring at Bobby with the first hints of concern in her gut as he twisted slightly in the car seat, apparently caught up in the throes of a nightmare. For the first time, it occurred to her that perhaps Bobby's apparently sleep-deprived night had not been because of any female, but rather due to nightmares. She reached out towards him, only to stop just short of touching him as he suddenly spoke out, his voice little more than a wretched moan.

"Refuge… Sydney… please, refuge..."

Alex stared at him, puzzled. Refuge? What the hell was that supposed mean? And who was Sydney? Her heart pounded in her chest as, in the dim light, she caught a glimpse of tears glistening on his cheeks.

Her musings were brought to an abrupt halt when Bobby suddenly shouted wordlessly and awoke with a violent start, jerking around and succeeding cracking his head solidly on the window.

"Ow…" he moaned, his hands coming up to gingerly feel the spot where his head had struck the perspex.

"You idiot," Alex murmured, reaching out to pull his hands away. He resisted her to start with, and she ended up slapping his hands away so that she could get a look at the bump. "That must have been a doozy of a nightmare," she murmured, and Bobby grimaced.

"I don't remember."

She regarded him sceptically. "You don't remember a nightmare that you were having thirty seconds ago? C'mon, Bobby, this is me you're talking to."

"Seriously," he insisted, wincing as she pulled his handkerchief from his pocket and pressed it gently to his head. "I don't remember it. What are you doing?"

"You're bleeding, you dope. Better off ruining a handkerchief than good clothes. Unless you want to let the blood run down your face?"

Bobby sighed softly and gave in, allowing her to tend to the bump while he watched the building out of the corner of his eye.

"How long have I been asleep?"

"About half an hour."

"I'm sorry, Eames. I shouldn't have fallen asleep."

She drew back from him, and gave what she hoped was a reassuring smile.

"It's okay, Bobby."

"No, it isn't. We're on surveillance."

"Bobby, before you start flaying yourself for displaying the otherwise normal human trait of exhaustion, answer me one question. How much sleep did you really get last night?"

He stared at her, torn between answering truthfully and not answering at all. Finally, reluctantly, he gave her an honest answer.

"I think I got an hour… maybe two, tops."

"And you didn't have a girl with you, did you?"

He shook his head wordlessly. Her brow creased just fractionally. She hated it when he went into silent mode, forcing her to play the proverbial Twenty Questions with him.

"Nightmares?"

A single, quick nod. Alex suppressed an urge to groan in frustration, and instead asked yet another question.

"And I suppose you don't remember what they were about either?"

It was impossible for him to miss the bite in her tone. "I don't remember any of them, Eames. They're gone, as soon as I wake up. I… I just don't remember them, and I don't think I really want to."

She frowned then.

"Well, that's a really healthy attitude."

"Eames..."

"No, Bobby. Damn it, I've lost count of the times you've badgered me into telling you about my nightmares. You're the one who said it's important to get it out into the open, that it's the quickest way to get rid of them. And now you're pulling this 'I don't remember' shit? I thought you trusted me, Bobby, but I guess I was wrong."

He flinched, as though she'd physically struck him.

"Eames..."

"No. Go to hell, Goren."

He stared at her as she twisted away from him, fairly trembling with anger, and tried hard to sort out in his frazzled mind just what had gone wrong. Perhaps he really was exhausted, but he simply couldn't understand why she wouldn't believe him. The truth was, despite his earlier words, he wished he could remember the nightmares, but it was always the same. He'd wake in a cold sweat, sometimes silently and sometimes crying out. Sometimes he would have tears on his face, and he would awaken with an unbridled sense of misery and fear, but he could never remember the actual content of the nightmares. Hesitantly, not wanting to anger Alex anymore than she already had been, he tried to explain.

"Alex, I'm sorry. I do trust you… but I really can't remember them. I wish I could, but they're gone as soon as I wake up. It… It drives me crazy, it's like not being able to remember what happened yesterday. But I can't help it. I've tried to remember, I swear it. But I just can't."

She turned back to him slowly, remorse and acceptance in her eyes at his pleading.

"I'm sorry, Bobby. I shouldn't have said that. I just find it hard to believe you can't remember anything about nightmares that have kept you from sleeping for nearly forty-eight hours now."

He grimaced, brushing his fingers gingerly across his head to check that the bleeding had stopped.

"You and me both."

Alex hesitated, then spoke quietly.

"Who is Sydney?"

Bobby froze and, for just a split second she saw recognition flash in his eyes. Then, it was gone, locked away deep in the part of his mind that also hid the secret to his ongoing nightmares.

"The name's familiar, but I can't place it."

"Well, you called it out in your sleep."

"I did?"

"Yeah. You said, 'Refuge, Sydney, please, refuge'. You don't know what any of that means?"

He shrugged helplessly. "I wish I did."

This time, she accepted his words without arguing.

"How are you feeling?" she asked after a little while. He sighed softly.

"Pretty wasted, actually."

"Mm. I don't doubt it. How long before Logan and Barek get here?"

"Try minus zero seconds," a new voice said as the rear doors of the sedan opened, and Mike Logan slipped in one side and Carolyn Barek the other.

"Logan, you idiot, you can't have minus zero," Bobby growled. Mike grinned.

"Your opinion. Damn, Goren, what did you do to your head?"

"I beat him up for being a smart ass," Alex replied flippantly. "Careful, or you'll be next."

Carolyn smirked and shook her head as Mike dutifully fell silent. If nothing else, Alex certainly knew how to stop the guys in their tracks.

"Any sign of activity yet?" she asked, and Alex shook her head.

"Nada. It's been dead quiet."

"Well, you two are officially relieved," Carolyn told them. "The SUV's around the corner. Captain says to go home and get some sleep. He wants all of us in his office at nine tomorrow morning to report to him on the case."

Bobby sighed with audible relief. "C'mon, Eames. I'll drive you home."

"The hell you will," Alex retorted as they both climbed out of the Ford. "Mike, give me the keys."

Mike handed the keys to the SUV promptly over to Alex, and shrugged when Bobby shot him a dirty look. "Hey, what can I say? She scares the crap outta me."

Shaking his head, and ignoring the stifled laughter from within the Ford, Bobby followed Alex around the corner to the SUV.

"I'm not that tired," he protested as he climbed into the passenger seat beside her. She shot him a sceptical look.

"Don't argue, Bobby. You're coming home with me."

He stared at her speechlessly, able only to blink in astonishment, and it was all she could do not to smack him across the head.

"You're exhausted. You say you hardly got any sleep last night, and that was pretty much proven in the car. I'm not leaving you alone, knowing that you're having bad nightmares that are keeping you awake."

"Eames, I don't see what difference..."

"Have you even considered that maybe just having some company might make a difference?"

It was with difficulty that he refrained from pointing out that her presence hadn't stopped him from having a nightmare in the car earlier. Still, though, it occurred to him that spending the rest of the night in his partner's company might go a long way to easing his frayed nerves.

"Okay," he conceded softly. Alex smiled, relishing the small triumph over her pig-headed partner.

"Good. My place it is."

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_Major Case Squad  
One Police Plaza  
8am, the following morning_

James Deakins was used to dealing with all manner of strange folk. As captain of the Major Case Squad, one of the highest profile squads in the NYPD, it was all part and parcel of his job. The two that he had in his office right at that moment, however, well and truly took the cake. If he didn't know any better, he would have thought they were CIA, or something similar, but their overly sinister and secretive behaviour left him seriously doubting their legitimacy. To make things worse, they were asking just a few too many questions about one of his best detectives, Robert Goren.

"Can I ask what this is about?" Deakins demanded, not for the first time. The man and woman – they'd introduced themselves as Lyle and Parker, and damned if the woman wasn't familiar to Deakins – exchanged surreptitious looks that infuriated the hell out of him.

"We're not at liberty to discuss that, Captain Deakins," Lyle said calmly. Deakins glowered at him.

"You sit here asking all sorts of personal questions about my detective, and you won't tell me what it's about."

"Like I said," Lyle answered, "we're not at liberty."

"Can you please tell us when he'll be back?" Parker asked. "We'd really like to speak to him directly."

"That won't be possible," Deakins answered coolly. "He's currently involved in a joint operation with another unit."

"Until when?" Lyle demanded. Deakins was barely able to keep his expression neutral.

"I'm sorry. I'm not at liberty to disclose that information."

A look passed fleetingly over Lyle's face that left Deakins feeling disconcerted and mildly afraid. Then, it was gone, and the slimy son of a bitch was handing him a business card.

"That's got my cell phone number. Please call me when Detective Goren is free again. We really do need to talk to him."

Deakins watched them exit the squad room, then snatched up his cell phone and hit speed dial. It was answered on the second ring.

_Goren._

"Goren, it's Deakins."

_Captain? What's wrong?_

Deakins smiled wryly. Trust Goren to know when something was wrong.

"In all honesty, Goren, I don't know. Just tell me one thing. Where are you right now?"

There was a long silence, and then he answered tentatively.

_I'm with Eames, at her apartment._

Deakins was too relieved to think twice about that admission.

"Good. Now, this is going to sound strange, but I don't want you or Eames coming back here today. And don't go to your own apartment, either. Just stay put with Eames at her place for now. I can't explain now, but please do as I say."

There was a low murmur of voices as Bobby explained to Eames what he had just been told by the captain. He heard her reply, and then Bobby was back.

_Okay, sir. Whatever you say. Are we going to get an explanation, though?_

"Yes, but not right now. I'll come around there as soon as I can, and tell you both what I know which, in all honesty, isn't that much. Just don't leave Eames' apartment, not for any reason. Do you understand me, Goren?"

He put an extra edge in his tone, hoping the stubborn detective would take the hint and not argue. To his relief, he did.

_Okay, Captain. I'll stay put, I promise._

"Thankyou."

He ended the call, and sat back slowly, frowning deeply. Something was wrong, and it irritated the hell out of him that he couldn't work out what. His phone rang, and he snatched it up in irritation.

"Deakins."

He listened for a long moment, incredulous.

"Now? …All right, fine. Send him up."

Minutes later, a tall, somewhat lanky-looking man walked into the Major Case bullpen, and confidently crossed the floor to Deakins' office. Deakins stood and greeted the man with reluctant enthusiasm.

"Agent Malone, was it? I'm Captain James Deakins."

"Jarod Malone, FBI," Jarod introduced himself. "Thankyou for being willing to see me, Captain Deakins. I apologise for the intrusion, but we have reason to believe that one of your officers may be at risk."

Deakins stared at Malone blankly. After the bizarre visit from Parker and Lyle not long before, this was just a little too much.

"Come into my office, please," Deakins invited him, closing the door carefully behind them. "Now, if you could explain yourself to me, I would greatly appreciate it, because I certainly couldn't get any sense out of those two that were here before you."

Jarod's smile faded noticeably.

"Two? A man and a woman?"

Deakins nodded.

"Yes, that's right. Introduced themselves as..."

"Miss Parker and Mr Lyle?" Jarod inquired, and again Deakins nodded.

"Yes, that's them."

Jarod grimaced, quietly conscious of the fact that he must have passed almost right by them on his way into the building.

"I was hoping I'd get here ahead of them. Captain Deakins, can you tell me exactly what they wanted?"

"Not exactly, because they wouldn't elaborate themselves, but they were asking a hell of a lot of questions about one of my detectives."

"Detective Robert Goren?" Jarod inquired. Deakins stared at him intently.

"Yes," he said finally. Jarod nodded grimly.

"I was afraid of that."

"You're saying that Detective Goren is at risk. At risk of what?"

Jarod returned Deakins' stare easily, his expression open and unguarded.

"That's what I hope to find out, Captain Deakins."

"Well, you might like to know that I spoke to Goren just before you arrived," Deakins said. "I told him and his partner not to come back here today, and for Goren not to go back to his apartment."

Jarod nodded his approval.

"That's good. I can guarantee that Lyle and Parker will have both this building and Detective Goren's apartment under surveillance."

"Two of my detectives, Logan and Barek, should be here within the next hour. I'll have them take you to see Goren," Deakins offered, and Jarod nodded in appreciation. Deakins then went on quietly. "Agent Malone, do you have any idea where those two are from? Because I could swear I know that woman from somewhere."

Jarod looked curiously at him.

"I can't tell you a lot just at the moment, Captain Deakins, except that they work for an agency that operates out of Blue Cove, in Delaware."

Deakins frowned, his expression turning puzzled and just a little bit afraid.

"Delaware?"

"Yes, that's right. Why?"

Deakins shook his head.

"Nothing. Just dejavu. Probably just coincidence."

Jarod's expression narrowed somewhat at that.

"Captain Deakins, in my experience there is no such thing as a simple coincidence"

Deakins smiled grimly.

"I'm afraid I know that only too well, Agent Malone."

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

An hour later Mike and Carolyn trudged back into the Major Case squadroom just before nine, both struggling to stay focused after several hours working surveillance with no results to show for it.

"Deakins isn't going to be happy," Mike grumbled as he sank into his chair and rubbed one hand fiercely over his tired eyes. Carolyn shrugged.

"It's not our fault the suspect never showed. And don't forget, it was Goren who said he'd be there. So if there's any backlash, it should go their way, not ours."

Mike frowned a little. He suspected that that hadn't come out quite the way Carolyn meant it to, but they were both tired, and he just didn't have the energy to analyse her words properly.

"He made a reasonable call, Barek. It was just unlucky that it didn't pan out."

She smiled then. "Relax, Mike. I wasn't suggesting we hang him out to dry. I just meant… hey, where are they, anyway?"

Mike looked past her and, sure enough, Bobby and Alex's desks were unoccupied. He glanced around, and there was no sign of either detective.

"They should've been here by now," Mike muttered. "Hey, Keller, do you know where Goren and Eames are?"

Detective Andy Keller paused on his way through the squadroom.

"They never showed this morning. Damien overheard Deakins on the phone to Goren about an hour ago, telling him not to come in this morning. Don't know why."

"That's just wonderful," Mike growled sourly as Keller continued on his way. "Deakins gives the Dynamic Duo the morning off, but we have come in."

"Take it easy, Logan," Carolyn murmured. "There's probably a perfectly logical explanation for it. Heads up, here comes Deakins."

Mike looked up wearily just as Deakins halted by their desks, with a man neither detective had seen before right behind him.

"Logan, Barek," Deakins greeted them. "This is Agent Jarod Malone, from the FBI. I need you to take him to Eames' apartment to see Goren."

Mike and Carolyn exchanged surprised looks. Not a word about the failed surveillance?

"Uh, sure," Mike said, standing up. "What's it about?"

"Malone will tell you what he can on the way there," Deakins answered. "Just be careful, and keep your eyes open for any tails. Particularly a man and a woman. Understand?"

Carolyn nodded, her suspicious gaze resting on Jarod. "Loud and clear, Captain."

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"So what is this about?" Carolyn asked as Mike guided their SUV out of One Police Plaza's underground car park.

"We received a tip from a reliable source that Detective Goren might be at risk," Jarod answered quietly. Mike glanced at him in the rear view mirror.

"At risk of what?"

"That's what I'm hoping to find out," Jarod said, echoing his earlier words to Deakins.

"So what branch of the FBI are you with?" Carolyn wondered, making a conscious effort to keep her tone entirely conversational. Jarod hesitated, then spoke with a small smile.

"I'm more of a freelance agent."

Logan and Barek exchanged brief glances, but neither said a word, and neither noticed the piercing look that Jarod gave them both from where he sat in the back seat.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_tbc..._


	3. Explanations and Revelations

A/N: _In all honesty, I hadn't expected to get to this point so fast, but the muse wouldn't let me put the brakes on. So, into the fire we go..._

_----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

Deakins sat at his desk in silence after Mike and Carolyn had left with Jarod, frowning and tapping his pen lightly against the blotter. He was starting to seriously wish he'd listened to his gut this morning, and simply called in sick.

First that man and woman turned up out of the blue asking all manner of suspicious questions about Bobby, and then that Federal agent, Malone, appeared. He wondered briefly if the three were actually working together, and an icy wave of panic raced down his spine at the thought. But no, he rationalised after managing to bring the panic under control. When he'd confirmed the alleged identities of the pair to Malone, the agent had gone almost green. No one could fake a reaction like that on the spot, Deakins mused. So no, Malone was not in on anything with Parker and Lyle.

His thoughts went back to the pair, and his frowned deepened. He was positive he knew the woman from somewhere, but for the life of him he couldn't work out where he might have seen her before. She was certainly not someone he would have ever socialised with. The woman had the personality of a pirhana, and her male companion was not much better.

In the end, he gave up trying to remember, deciding that if it really was important, he'd remember when the time was right.

And as for Jarod Malone…

Deakins rubbed the spot between his eyes, trying to ease the eadache that was starting to threaten. There was something strange about _him_, too, although Deakins felt far more inclined to trust him than the other two. One thing was certain, though, and that was that Malone was unlike any FBI agent he'd ever met. Polite, where most tended to be boorish; modest, where others were arrogant… No, Jarod was definitely the antithesis of the typical FBI agent. Which left him wondering…

Feeling that sudden chill of panic clutching at his chest once more, Deakins picked up his phone, and started dialling.

_----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

"I thought Deakins was coming around later today," Alex remarked dryly as she let her two colleagues and their tag-along into her apartment.

"Developments," Logan said with an apologetic shrug. "Alex, this is Agent Jarod Malone. He's FBI. Deakins asked us to bring him to see Bobby."

Alex turned to look at Jarod, and size him up. Jarod extended his hand to her, and she took it in a firm grip. A little too firm, she reflected with little regret as he winced visibly.

"You have a very strong grip," Jarod marvelled once she let go. Alex glanced fleetingly at Barek with an 'is he for real?' raised eyebrows look, to which Barek replied with a slight shrug.

"What does the FBI want with my partner?" Alex asked. Jarod stared at her for a moment, and then smiled apologetically.

"I'm sorry. It isn't that we have any sort of problem with him. We've… Actually, it would be best if I could talk to him directly."

"Where is he, anyway?" Logan asked.

"Taking a bath," Alex said calmly. "After Deakins called and told us both to stay put, I told him to put the time to use. He's been so high-strung the last few weeks that I thought it might ease his nerves some."

"Stressed in what way?" Jarod wondered. Alex stared at him critically before deciding instinctively that he could be trusted.

"He's not been getting a lot of sleep lately. I finally got him to admit last night that he's been having some pretty bad nightmares. Of course, he only admitted that after he had a nightmare in the car last night while we were on stakeout duty."

"You're kidding," Logan said incredulously. "Bobby fell asleep on stakeout?"

"Yes, and if you tell Deakins, I'll shoot you myself," Alex snapped. Logan smiled and held his hands up defensively.

"Chill. I won't say a word."

"You said he had a nightmare last night?" Jarod asked. "Did he… say anything in his sleep?"

Again, Alex hesitated, this time out of uncertainty of whether she should divulge that information. Finally, she spoke quietly, as though afraid that Bobby might somehow hear her.

"He did say something, but when I asked him about it, he said he didn't know what it meant. He said 'refuge, Sydney, please, refuge'."

It was all Jarod could do to maintain a neutral expression. That revelation told him that Bobby's memories of the Centre were there, hiding just beneath the surface, and that it might not take too much to bring them all the way to the surface.

Abruptly, the bathroom door opened and Bobby emerged, just buttoning up his shirt. He froze just briefly when he realised he and Alex had company.

"Deakins asked us to come," Barek explained. "He asked us to bring Agent Malone here to see you."

Bobby looked around slowly at Jarod, but if there was any hint of recognition in his eyes, Jarod couldn't see it.

"Agent Malone…?"

Jarod nodded, walking over to shake the taller man's hand. "That's right. Actually, just Jarod is fine, Detective Goren."

Bobby paused, holding on to Jarod's hand for a fraction longer than necessary while staring at him piercingly.

"So who have I managed to piss off in the Bureau this time?" he asked, walking past Jarod and sinking into one of Alex's dining chairs.

"No one at the Bureau, I promise you," Jarod assured him. Bobby looked less than convinced.

"I'm not too well liked over there, Jarod. I doubt you were sent here as a courtesy for anything."

Jarod came around, and sat down opposite Bobby.

"Actually, Detective, that's exactly why I'm here. Out of courtesy. Tell me, have you been aware of any surveillance over the last week or two?"

"Surveillance?" Logan retorted. "Of him?"

Jarod ignored Logan, his attention very firmly focused on Bobby. After a moment, Bobby nodded very slowly, drawing a startled exclamation from Alex.

"You were aware that you were being followed, and you never told me?" she burst out.

Bobby looked uncomfortable.

"I wasn't sure… until now."

The dark look on Alex's face was enough to tell him he was in trouble, and he shrank down in the seat in response. Jarod watched in wordless curiosity as the exchanged took place, wondering that such a diminutive woman could have such obvious dominance over a man like Bobby Goren.

Anxious to focus on anything other than Alex's anger at him, Bobby looked back at Jarod.

"Are you saying you know something about this?"

Jarod opened up his notebook, and produced two photos.

"The man is called Lyle, the woman is called Parker. We have reason to believe they've targeted you."

"Targeted me…?" Bobby echoed as he stared at the photos with a frown. "For what?"

"We don't know exactly why yet, but it's possible they may try to abduct you."

The silence that met that statement was profound. Then, abruptly, Mike Logan began to laugh. Clutching his stomach, he doubled over and bellowed with laughter. Struck by the apparent absurdity of it, Carolyn found herself struggling not to start laughing as well, and even Alex was sporting an amused smirk. The only ones not smiling were Jarod and Bobby.

"Him? Who'd want to try abducting him?" Mike spluttered. "Seriously, Malone, who are you trying to kid?"

"I wish I was kidding, Detective Logan," Jarod answered coolly.

Slowly, Mike's laughter faded, along with his grin.

"You're really serious… aren't you?" Mike asked, all humour gone in a moment.

"Yes," Jarod confirmed quietly. "I am."

"Why would these people want me?" Bobby asked. There was concern in his eyes, Jarod noted in the seconds before he answered, but no fear. At least, not yet.

"I don't have all the answers yet," Jarod told him apologetically. "I don't know yet exactly what their interest is in you. But I promise you that I'm working on it, and as soon as I know more, I will tell you."

Alex moved around to sit beside Bobby, silenting noting that Carolyn had moved discreetly around the corner into the kitchen to make answer an incoming call on her cell phone. Mike had noticed her go as well, and had followed her into the kitchen.

"Can you at least tell us who those two… Parker and Lyle, did you say their names were? Who they work for?"

At that, Jarod hesitated. He was reluctant to say too much too soon, but at the same time he didn't know how much time he had before Parker and Lyle made their move. And it was essential that Bobby remember sooner, rather than later, for his own sake.

He decided to take a chance, and go one step at a time, and see where it led them.

"It's an agency that you probably won't have heard of," Jarod answered cautiously. "It's called The Centre. We don't know very much about it."

As he spoke, Jarod watched Bobby carefully, but there was no outward sign that the name was in any way familiar to him.

"What we do know," he went on quietly, "is that it's an organisation that will do virtually anything for money. Kidnapping, extortion, theft, murder… You name it, The Centre has probably done it. The people who run it are unconscienable. And they're dangerous. Very, very dangerous."

"But you don't know what they want with me," Bobby said thoughtfully. Jarod shook his head.

"No, I don't."

A long moment passed, and then Bobby leaned forward, his gaze penetrating Jarod to the core.

"You're lying."

Jarod froze, his breath catching in his throat. Bobby didn't drop his gaze, didn't release Jarod from the mental hold he had on him.

"You may not know exactly what they want me for, but you know why."

It wasn't a question, and Jarod found himself incapable of denying it. All of a sudden, he understood how Bobby had managed to reach such a high position within the NYPD. The man was a frighteningly good interrogator.

"I have suspicions," Jarod said, forcing himself to keep his voice low and calm. "I didn't want to voice anything just yet that's pure speculation."

Bobby sat back finally, though he didn't take his eyes off the other man. The scepticism in his eyes was all too visible to Jarod.

"What's this really about, Agent Malone?"

Jarod shifted uncomfortably. This wasn't going at all the way he'd planned it. Usually he had complete control of the situation when he went into a new pretend, but coming up against Bobby in this way had thrown him right off balance, and all of a sudden he wasn't sure which way to turn.

He knew he had to do something eventually to provoke Bobby into remembering his past, but he hadn't anticipated doing it so soon, and he hadn't anticipated having an audience of three other New York police detectives. There was so much that could go awry, it just wasn't funny; not the least of which was the possibility that no amount of prodding on his part would prompt Bobby to remember. And at this stage, to tell Bobby the full truth and not be believed could prove to be disastrous.

_Damn it, Sydney,_ he thought miserably, _where are you when I really need you?_

"Can you even answer that?" Alex asked in a scathing tone, bringing him back to reality with a jolt.

"I doubt he can."

Jarod looked around, caught off-guard by the sudden reappearance of Mike and Carolyn behind him. Neither was smiling as they looked down at him.

"What is it?" Alex asked.

"That was Deakins," Carolyn said, meaning the phone call she'd just taken. "He called a friend of his in the FBI after we'd left. He thought he'd check up on you, Malone."

Jarod felt his heart start to thump painfully in his chest. He really did not like the sound of that.

"And…?"

Mike did smile, then, and it wasn't pleasant to look at.

"The only Jarod Malone they have on file was retired twenty-five years ago after taking a bullet in the back. I have to say, Malone, for a seventy year old paraplegic you're looking pretty damned good."

Jarod glanced uneasily at Bobby and Alex, both of whom were watching him with deceptively placid expressions. Mike moved around and sat down on the edge of the table, focusing his harshest look on the other man.

"You've got about half a minute to give us a damned good reason why we shouldn't arrest you for impersonating a federal officer."

"Well?" Alex asked. "We're waiting."

Jarod let his breath out in a rush. He really hadn't wanted to do it this way. He'd wanted to get Bobby alone, and try to find as gentle a way as possible to bring his memories to the surface. Unfortunately, it seemed his colleagues were not going to allow him that opportunity.

"You're not an FBI agent, are you?" Carolyn asked. Jarod regarded her ruefully.

"You know I'm not."

"So, who are you?" Mike demanded to know. "Are you in with the people that Deakins warned us to watch out for?"

"No!" Jarod protested. "No, I'm not with them, I promise you that. Look… This isn't easy to tell, and you might find it hard to believe…"

"Try us," Alex said flatly. "You'd be surprised what we'll believe."

Jarod grimaced.

"All right. The man and woman whose pictures I showed you – Lyle and Parker – work for an agency called The Centre. Back in the 60's, they had a program called the Pretender Project. They took children… a lot of very gifted children… and exploited them for their genius. Some of those children were sent to the Centre by their parents thinking they were giving their children over to a place that could nurture their intelligence… Some were taken by less legitimate means. All of them were horribly abused in ways you couldn't begin to imagine."

"We have pretty good imaginations," Alex said crisply.

"How do you know all of this, anyway?" Carolyn asked, frowning. Jarod looked straight at Bobby, holding his gaze as he spoke the next words.

"I was one of those children. I escaped the Centre about ten years ago, and I've been on the run ever since."

Beside him, still perched on the edge of the table, Mike coughed loudly into his hand, and his colleagues were just able to discern the word 'crackpot'. Jarod shook his head.

"I know it sounds crazy, but it's true."

"All right," Bobby conceded. "Let's say it's true. How does all this involve me?"

Again, Jarod drew in a long breath. Here went everything.

"Of all those children who escaped the Centre, one way or another, only two are still alive. I'm one. The other one is you, Bobby."

Stunned silence met Jarod's statement. Then, Mike gave a loud, derisive snort.

"You really are friggin' crazy, Malone."

"You're wrong," Bobby said quietly. "Whatever this place is that you're talking about…"

"I bet it doesn't even exist," Alex threw in acidly. Bobby glanced at her, and then looked back at Jarod.

"Even if it is real, I've never been there. I've never been to Delaware. You've got the wrong person."

Jarod shook his head.

"No, I don't. Detective Eames, what was it that you told us that Bobby said when he woke up from that nightmare last night?"

Alex frowned, but answered regardless.

"He said 'refuge, Sydney, please, refuge'."

Jarod looked back at Bobby.

"Does that mean anything to you?"

"Should it?" Bobby asked, starting to sound a touch defensive.

"Sydney was the man who was in charge of us," Jarod told him. "And refuge was our safety word. The only way you would know that is if you were there yourself."

"Coincidence," Bobby said, getting up and starting to pace restlessly. "That's all it is, just a coincidence."

"When is it that Bobby was supposed to have been at this place anyway?" Carolyn asked. Jarod frowned as he searched his memory.

"Ah… I think Bobby was seven when he was brought to the Centre."

"Then you really do have the wrong person, Malone," Bobby said quickly. "I went into t a foster home for six months when I was seven, and then I was in and out of relatives' homes until…"

"Until you were twelve?" Jarod cut in. Bobby faltered, frowning.

"Y… Yes…"

"Tell me," Jarod asked, getting up to stand at eye level with the detective. "Have you got any clear memories of being either at home, in a foster home or with relatives between the ages of seven and twelve? Can you cite even one clear memory of the foster family that you think you were placed with?"

Bobby opened his mouth to answer, only to discover that he couldn't. He had no specific memories, either of his foster family or of any time spent with so-called relatives. Nor was there any lucid memory of being at home with his parents and brother during that time. All he had was a jumble of ideas, with no memories to back up his belief that he had ever been in a foster home, or housed with relatives.

"You can't, can you?" Jarod asked quietly. Bobby shook his head in fast-growing agitation.

"It doesn't mean anything. I've just repressed it. It… It was a difficult time…"

Jarod regarded Bobby with increasing frustration and concern. He had to find some way past that block in Bobby's mind, and if gentle prodding wasn't going to work then he would have to resort to other, harsher methods.

"What you've repressed is five years of torment," Jarod argued. "The concept of foster care was planted in your mind after you were rescued, not just to protect you from the Centre, but also to safeguard your own mind."

Bobby shook his head again, furiously. He'd heard enough.

"Mike's right. You are crazy."

Jarod clenched his jaw, searching his mind for something he could say or do to convince the man in front of him that he wasn't crazy at all. And damn it, nothing was coming to mind. All those memories, all that intelligence, and he couldn't think of a single damned thing.

"Bobby, please, just listen to me. I'm not crazy."

"Why the hell should he listen to you?"

It was Mike Logan who had spoken. Jarod looked around to find not only him, but Alex Eames and Carolyn Barek standing there, staring at him hostilely, ready to defend their friend and colleague. Setting his jaw with grim determination, Jarod tried again.

"You're in danger. You need to listen to me. Those two… Parker and Lyle… They've been ordered to bring you back to the Centre, and they'll do it by any means they can."

"This is ludicrous," Bobby growled.

"Please," Jarod pleaded with him, "just hear me out!"

Bobby shook his head and, with a short, rueful laugh, he circled around Jarod and grabbed his coat from the rack near Alex's front door.

"I'm going out to get a coffee. When I get back, Malone, you'd better not still be here."

Jarod watched Bobby start walking away and spoke quickly, quietly hating himself for having to do it but knowing there was no other alternative left to him.

"I know you want to go home, Bobby, but you can't. You won't ever be able to go home. Your parents don't want you anymore, and that's why they handed you over to us. We're your family now. I'm your new father. If you do everything we ask of you, everything will be fine. But if you fight us, we'll have to punish you, the way we did when you first came here. And we don't want to have to do that anymore than you want us to do it. So promise that you'll do everything you're told, no matter what, and everything will be just fine."

"What the fuck are you going on about?" Logan growled, but Barek's hand on his arm silenced him. A moment later, he saw why.

Bobby had frozen where he stood, his face turning the colour of ash. His coat slipped from numb fingers, and dropped unnoticed to the floor.

"Bobby…?" Alex asked softly, staring up at him worriedly. "What is it?"

He didn't respond, and even as they watched, his ashen features steadily changed through assorted shades of pale. His breath started coming in rapid gasps as panic took hold, and a moment later his knees buckled beneath him and he collapsed to the floor, landing painfully on hands and knees. He knelt there on the floor, rigid with panic, his breath coming in wheezing gasps.

"Jesus, he's going into shock," Logan growled. Alex fell to her knees in front of her partner, desperately trying to get him to focus on her.

"Bobby, look at me. Damn it, look at me!"

His eyes came up slowly to meet hers, and Alex's heart rended at the agonised look in his face. She started to reach for him, but a moment later his eyes rolled up and his body collapsed completely to the floor as he lost consciousness.

"Okay, he's not breathing," Logan growled. "Alex help me roll him over."

Alex did so, and watched in fear as Logan carefully tilted Bobby's head back and, without hesitating for an instant, began CPR.

"C'mon, Bobby," Mike muttered as he forced air into his friend's lungs, trying desperately to counter the shock and get him breathing again. "Breathe, goddamn you!"

Nearby, Jarod watched with breathless horror. He had anticipated a bad reaction, but not this bad.

The seconds ticked by with excruciating slowness, until Bobby's body suddenly gave a violent shudder, and he began to breathe on his own once more. He didn't wake up, though, and Alex took the liberty of gently lifting his head into her lap and cradling him to her while Mike and Carolyn got up to confront Jarod.

"Now what the _fuck_ was all that about?" Barek demanded, glaring at Jarod.

"That was the speech that a man called Raines gave to Bobby after he'd been at the Centre for six months. After he said he wanted to go home."

"Again with this 'Centre' bullshit," Logan growled. "Why don't you try coming up with a story we might halfway believe?"

Jarod didn't have the chance to respond. At that moment, a new voice spoke up, startling them all.

"What in the name of God is going on here?"

They all looked around to see Deakins striding into the apartment, his expression black as thunder.

"Well?" Deakins demanded. Then his gaze alighted on Bobby, and the anger melted to make way for concern.

"What happened to him?" he demanded to know, pushing through to kneel down beside the unconscious detective.

"Something Malone here said caused Goren to have a turn," Barek said grimly. "He went into shock, and collapsed. Mike had to perform CPR. He stopped breathing altogether for a minute there."

Deakins looked down into Bobby's ashen features, then looked up at Jarod, his expression turning positively lethal.

"What the hell did you do to my detective, Malone?"

"I reminded him about a part of his past that he'd rather keep buried," Jarod replied grimly. "I'm sorry, Captain Deakins, but there are things that I need Bobby to remember, for his own sake."

"But you won't explain it to us."

"I can' explain all of it. Not here. Not now. I'm sorry."

Deakins nodded.

"All right. Logan, handcuff him to something solid in Alex's bathroom."

"With pleasure," Logan growled, and he forced Jarod into the bathroom, before the other man could so much as protest.

"Now what?" Barek asked. Deakins looked across at Alex, who still had Bobby's head cradled gently in her lap. He glanced around as Logan returned.

"First of all, let's get Bobby somewhere comfortable."

"Let's move him into the bedroom, to my bed," Alex suggested, and Deakins nodded.

"Good idea."

_----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

A short while later, they sat in Alex's bedroom, talking quietly about the situation. Between them, Logan, Barek and Alex filled Deakins in on the bizarre story that Jarod had spun to Bobby; none of them noticing the way that Deakins slowly grew very quiet and very pale as they told it.

"We need to lock this nutcase up, before he can do anymore damage," Logan growled softly as he, Barek, Eames and Deakins saw to their collapsed companion. Bobby had not regained consciousness, but he seemed to be resting easier, lying on the comfortable bed. Now they sat close by the sleeping detective, discussing the stranger who had caused their fellow detective to collapse in a state of shock.

"He's dangerous," Barek agreed. "It'd be best, at least until we can determine who he really is."

"Whatever he said to Bobby," Alex said in a strained voice, "it had an effect…"

"Sure, it had an effect," Logan retorted. "He went into shock and collapsed."

"I don't mean that," Alex growled. "Whatever Malone said, it triggered something in Bobby's memory."

"Alex, the guy is a loon," Logan argued.

"No, he's not."

All three detectives looked up at Deakins, startled.

"What…?" Barek started to ask, but Deakins cut her off.

"He isn't crazy. He was telling you the truth. There really is a place in Delaware called The Centre. They specialise in all manner of underhanded things, but the children they've taken over the years is the worst of it."

"It's true…?" Logan asked, stunned and confused. Deakins spoke quietly, his gaze fixed on Bobby.

"Yes, Logan, it's true. Take my word for it, it's true."

"How do you know?" Barek wondered. Deakins was silent for a long moment before elaborating.

"When I first joined the Force, I was in a place called Blue Cove, in Delaware. It was a nice enough little town, but there was a place on its outskirts. Everyone called it The Centre. I don't know if that was its actual name, but that's what everyone called it. There were rumours about that place, disturbing stories about what went on in there. My superior officers warned me not to get involved with any rumours about it, to just act as though it didn't exist.

"For two years, that's what I did. Then, one day, I was approached by a woman… She introduced herself to me as Catherine Parker. I don't know whether that was really her name. I never tried to find out. She came to me and said she needed my help. She told me I was the only cop in the town who wasn't on the Centre's payroll, and that that probably wouldn't last once I finished my term as a rookie. But right then, I was the only one she believed she could trust.

"She said she had something precious that she needed to get out of the Centre, but she couldn't do it on her own. She told me they'd kept this precious thing there for over four years, and they had no right to. I asked her what it was, but she wouldn't tell me. She just begged me to meet her on a particular night, at a designated place. She said when I saw for myself, then I'd understand."

"So you went?" Logan asked, and Deakins nodded.

"Yes, I went. Out of curiosity, if nothing else. There was no one there when I arrived, and I thought at first that I'd been set up for a hoax. But she came about fifteen minutes later."

"And?" Barek pressed eager to hear what the 'precious item' was. Deakins finally looked away from Bobby, back to the three detectives.

"She had a child with her. A little boy, no more than twelve years old. He was terrified… clung to the woman and didn't want to be separated from her. She told me he'd been handed over to the Centre more than four years ago, and that it was time for him to go home. She put him in my car, and then told me that she needed me to get him out of Delaware as fast as possible. She gave me the name and address of a contact in New York, told me to get the boy to them as fast as I could, and they'd make sure he was kept safe until such a time as he could be taken back to his mother. I asked why she hadn't acted before now, and all she would tell me that if she'd acted before then, she would have had to hand him over to a new family entirely. This way, he was at least able to go home to one parent. She wouldn't elaborate on what she meant by that, and I never did understand. I still don't, not entirely. Although, considering what he was eventually sent home to, maybe it would have been better if he had gone to an entirely new family."

"So who was this kid?" Barek asked.

"You mean you haven't worked it out yet?" Deakins asked wryly. "I'll put it down to a long night. I never learnt anything about that little boy that night, except for a first name. He was quite possibly the saddest, loneliest looking little boy I'd ever seen in my life." He paused, and sighed softly. "His name was Bobby."

"Oh, fuck," Logan whispered, his gaze going to the sleeping detective. Deakins got up, leaving the three of them sitting there, watching Bobby's sleeping form in disbelief. He crossed the narrow hall to the bathroom, and used his keys to release Jarod from the handcuffs. The other man looked at Deakins with grudging thanks.

"Decided I'm not crazy after all?"

"I know you're not," Deakins told him as he led him into the bedroom. "Malone… That isn't really your name is it?"

"No," Jarod admitted wryly. Deakins nodded, unconcerned.

"Well, that's what we'll call you for the moment, just for convenience. Tell me, how much do you know about Bobby's escape from The Centre?"

Jarod shook his head slowly.

"Virtually nothing. All I knew was that there was a plan to get him out. I didn't know any of the details. The people involved made sure I didn't know anything."

"So you couldn't blab?" Logan growled. Jarod smiled faintly.

"No. So I couldn't be punished over it. I would never have done anything to jeopardise Bobby's rescue. He belonged in that place even less than I did."

Again, Deakins nodded. "Well, I was the one who helped Mrs Parker get Bobby away from the Centre thirty years ago."

Jarod stared at him, stunned.

"You…?"

Deakins nodded, feeling almost painfully weary all of a sudden.

"Yes, me."

"You've known all along, haven't you?" Alex asked tensely, but Deakins denied it with a quick shake of his head.

"No, I didn't know. I never connected Bobby with the little boy that I helped to rescue from that place. When those two turned up this morning asking about Bobby, that was when I started putting the pieces together. I don't know anything about the man…"

"He's a pure psychopath," Jarod said in a soft, grim voice. Deakins nodded.

"I got that impression. As for the woman, I thought I recognised her from somewhere, but I couldn't immediately place her. Now I do remember. It wasn't her, it was her mother. She's the spitting image of her mother. As for Jarod, here, I didn't know anything about him until here and now."

"What do they want with Bobby?" Alex demanded to know.

"I don't know, exactly," Jarod admitted, "but whatever it is, it won't be pleasant."

"Hang on a second," Logan interrupted. "If Goren is so important to them, how come they've waited for thirty years to come looking for him? Wouldn't they have gone after him the night that woman got him out?"

"According to my friend, they tried," Jarod answered. "But Mrs Parker knew what she was doing. She created so many false paths that by the time they did find Bobby, he was being so closely watched by certain other individuals that there was nothing they could do."

"And what about you?" Barek asked. "What's your story?"

Jarod was silent for a long moment, then sat down on a nearby chair.

"I was taken from my family when I was five years old, and kept in the Centre for… well, a long time. I think I was about thirty-five when I finally escaped. I'd been there for around four years when Bobby was brought in. Time doesn't mean much in that place. They never gave us any measure of the time that passed. I don't even know for sure how long Bobby was there before Mrs Parker got him out."

"She said it had been more than four years," Deakins said. Jarod sighed.

"Long enough. Too long. It made it worse that Sydney didn't have exclusive control of him, but had to share him with Raines…"

"What the hell did those people make you both do?" Alex growled as she pressed a cool, damp cloth to Bobby's forehead.

Jarod was silent for nearly a minute, considering his answer carefully.

"They manipulated us," Jarod said finally. "They used our intelligence for their own gains. It's hard to explain the simulations they put us through, but I suppose you could call it a kind of psychological torture. I can't really tell you… but I can show you."

While they watched, Jarod opened up the case that he carried almost everywhere with him, and selected a disk, inserting it into the viewer.

"In the time that Bobby was at the Centre, Sydney ran around a hundred simulations using the two of us together. When I escaped, I took all the disks with me. This ought to give you an idea of what we had to live with."

Deakins and the three detectives gathered around to watch.

There were three people visible, two children and one adult. The two children were strapped into seats facing each other, and they appeared to be surrounded by a ring of flames. Both boys looked one step short of terrified.

"What the hell…?" Barek growled. Jarod stood back, watching grimly from outside the boundary of the circle of fire.

"I'm the boy on the left. Bobby is on the right. The man is Sydney. He was responsible for us. This was a simulation to determine the safety of space shuttle heat shield designs. It was the last simulation we did together before Bobby was rescued."

Silence fell as they watched the awful scene unfold on the viewer.

"_I can't breathe!" Bobby choked out. "The smoke, it's everywhere!"_

"_The fire's spreading," Jarod cried out. "We're going to burn!"_

"_Concentrate," Sydney growled. "You both have to concentrate. What happens next?"_

"_The heat shields have failed," Bobby moaned. "It's not the fault of the crew… or the people who designed the shuttle. The designs are good, but the engineers… They must've took shortcuts when they built the shuttle. It can't stand up to the pressure of re-entry."_

"_We don't have a chance," Jarod sobbed. "We never had a chance, and they knew. They had to know. The fire!"_

"_We're burning!" Bobby screamed, his young face contorted with terror and imagined agony. "We're burning up!"_

"_Refuge!" Jarod screamed. "Sydney, refuge!"_

Jarod reached forward and hit the stop button, ejecting the disk.

"Oh my god," Alex whispered, tears filling her eyes as she looked back at her sleeping partner with new sympathy.

Logan grunted as he stepped back.

"Well hell, no wonder Goren is screwed up."

In the next instant, they all winced at the sound of flesh striking flesh as Alex slapped Logan hard across the face.

"Don't you dare talk about him like that," she snarled. "He saved your life once, not that long ago, or did you conveniently forget?"

Logan grimaced, and gingerly rubbed his face.

"No, I didn't forget. I'm sorry, that was a lousy thing to say."

"In a way, Logan's right, though," Barek said carefully. "I'm not saying he's screwed up, Alex, but think of all the trauma he'd been through as a kid _before_ we knew about this."

Alex looked back at Bobby miserably.

"Does he really have to remember? Why can't he be allowed to forget about it?"

"Because it's possible that somewhere in his memories is the reason they're coming after him now," Deakins said quietly, and Jarod nodded in agreement.

Whatever it is, it's to do with Raines. Something that Raines did… that he put Bobby through. If it was any of Sydney's projects, my friend would have been able to tell me."

"We're going to have to wake him up," Deakins decided.

"Let me," Alex pleaded softly.

Deakins shook his head. He hated having to deny her, but there was no way of knowing what state of mind Bobby would be in when he awoke, and Deakins didn't want her in the firing line. That, and he hoped that Bobby would trust him enough to talk to him openly, once this new connection between them became clear.

"No, Alex, I'll do it. I know you're his partner, and I normally wouldn't stand in your way, but just this one time, let me. Okay?"

She conceded with great reluctance and, quietly, the four of them rose up and headed back into the living area at his urging. As she started to close the door behind them, though, she paused and spoke to Deakins softly.

"It makes sense, you know."

Deakins looked at her, puzzled.

"What do you mean, Alex?"

"Bobby mistrusts anyone in any sort of position of authority over him… except you."

She closed the door behind her, leaving Deakins to wonder about her words.

_----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

_tbc..._


	4. A Difficult Memory

Bobby awoke slowly to the uncomfortable sensation of cold water trickling down his neck and soaking his shirt collar. Roused back into awareness by pure discomfort, he forced his eyes open and found himself looking up into the concerned face of his captain.

Startled, he tried to sit up only to be pushed gently back down by Deakins.

"Don't move just yet," Deakins told him quietly. "Just lie still for a couple of minutes, okay? You've had a pretty bad shock. You need a chance to recover from it."

Bobby sucked in a long breath.

"I… That was the worst dream…"

Deakins sighed softly.

"Bobby, it wasn't a dream."

Bobby lay frozen, staring up at Deakins in borderline panic. The captain laid one hand firmly on Bobby's arm.

"Stay with me, Bobby. I need you to stay with me, now. I know it's a bad shock to the system, but you have to focus. It's important."

Slowly, the panic in Bobby's eyes subsided, and regained some measure of focus. Deakins nodded, relieved.

"Good. Now, I want you to tell me, how much do you remember about the Centre?"

Confusion registered in Bobby's eyes as he stared up at Deakins.

"How… How do you…?"

"How do I know it's all for real?"

"Yeah…"

"Bobby, do you remember the night Mrs Parker took you out of the Centre?"

Bobby thought on that for a long moment before speaking slowly.

"Some of it. I remember… I remember looking up at the sky and feeling disappointed that there were no stars. We walked a long way… She was in a hurry… I was just frightened. I… I kept thinking that Mr Raines was going to catch up to us any minutes, and I was terrified of what he'd do to me."

Deakins bit the inside of his cheek at Bobby's confession. He had no doubt that Bobby's fears would have been one hundred percent justified – and then some.

"There was a car waiting for us," Bobby went on tentatively. "And a man… Mrs Parker told me I had to go with him, and he'd take me to a friend of hers. I remember we drove all night, and most of the next day…"

"Yes," Deakins confirmed quietly. "We did."

Bobby froze, staring at his captain in renewed shock.

"Y… You… That was _you_?"

"Yes, it was. I never realised that little boy was you, though, until now. I had my suspicions when Lyle and Parker turned up this morning ago asking questions about you, but I wasn't certain until just now."

Slowly, Bobby pushed himself up, and this time Deakins didn't try to stop him.

"All these years, I'd convinced myself that I'd been in a foster home for four and a half years… I totally buried the truth."

"There's no shame in that. You were put through a hell that no child should have had to endure. But you need to remember it now, even though it's going to be very hard for you."

"Why?" Bobby asked in a strained voice. "Why do I have to remember now?"

"Because you may be the only one who knows the reason they've decided to come after you now, after thirty years."

Bobby sat back with a heavy thud, tears glistening in his eyes.

"I don't want to, Captain," he said plaintively. Deakins felt his heart go out to the younger man.

"I know, Bobby, but you have to. For your own sake, you have to remember."

Bobby's shoulders slumped, and he stared up at the ceiling. Little though he liked it, Deakins was right. He had to remember.

His breath caught in his throat as, slowly and with some effort, the memories began to filter back.

* * *

_It had been nearly two weeks since Mommy had gone off to the hospital. That had been just about the worst day of his life, seeing his beloved mother being taken away in the ambulance. Of course, the days leading up to that had been pretty scary, too, with her becoming ever more unstable. _

_Now_…_? Now, it was just him, his big brother Frank, and their dad. The three of them together. Except_..._ something wasn't right._

_Seven year-old Bobby stared out at the dark night, a blanket pulled tightly around his shoulders. Something sinister was on the prowl out there, and it was coming for him, he was sure of it._

"_Bobby, go to sleep, will ya? Dad'll be mad."_

_Bobby glanced over to his brother's bed, then sighed and slid down in his bed, pulling the covers up tight under his chin._

_His fear were probably highly irrational, he decided tiredly. Just silly worries he had from a conversation he'd overheard just the day before… and probably misinterpreted._

_He'd come home from school, and had taken care to slip quietly into the house. His dad seemed to have little patience for him with Mom in the hospital, so he tried to compensate by making himself as invisible as possible. _

_It didn't always work, unfortunately, and he regularly had a sore butt to prove it._

_Today, he slipped in as quietly as he could. He must have been especially good at being invisible that day, because his father was on the phone, and never heard him come in. Consequently, Bobby found himself listening in on a conversation that, in hindsight, he knew he probably shouldn't have._

"…_what do you mean, test him? I sent you all that crap a week ago! _…_Your own tests? That's bull. Take my word for it, Mr Raines, he's smarter than even you could hope for. He's everything you wanted, and then some. _…_Yes, that's right. And don't forget, you agreed to finance my wife's treatment_…_ Yes, for as long as it takes. And don't forget the college fund you promised to set up for Frank. _…_No, I don't think I'm asking for too much. Look, I'll agree to your stinking test, but only because I know you're not going to be disappointed. But I want everything you promised me, Raines. Permanent care for my wife, and for me and Frank to be looked after, too."_

_It had set Bobby's mind on edge at the time, that his father had not thought to include him in that last statement. In the end, though, he dismissed his worries. He was sure it was merely a slip of the mind that his father had forgotten to mention him as well._

_A hand on his shoulder startled him back into awareness, and he nearly yelped in fright._

"_Hush, don't make a noise," his father whispered to him. "Get up."_

_Bobby sat up slowly, looking at his father, puzzled._

"_Dad? What's going on?"_

"_I said, don't make a noise. Don't wake up your brother."_

_Bobby looked again at Frank. He was sure his big brother was faking, but he dared not accuse him of it. Reluctantly, he threw back the covers and got out of bed._

"_Here," Ben Goren said, tossing a pair of shorts and a shirt at his son. "Get dressed, Bobby."_

"_But it's in the middle of the night!" Bobby protested, even as he began to change out of his pyjamas. _

"_I know, but some folks are coming. They've come a long way especially to see you, Bobby. You don't want to let them down."_

"_W… Why do they want to see me?"_

"_They heard how special you are. Hurry up and get dressed."_

_Bobby couldn't help the fear that was starting to grip him deep down in his gut. _

"_But… why do they want to see me?" he asked again._

_Ben looked down at his son, on the verge of losing his temper. Bobby cringed, understanding that, once again, he'd pushed too far with his questions. He braced himself for the anticipated slap_… _but it never came. He looked up, puzzled, and found his father was staring at him with tears in his eyes._

"_Daddy, how come you're crying?"_

"_It's nothing," Ben said gruffly. Then, he dropped into a crouch in front of his youngest child, so that he could look him in the eye. "Bobby, listen to me. The people that are coming to see you run a special program for bright kids like you. They're going to test you a bit, and if they like the results they get, then you'll get to join their program. You'll get to go on a kind of a holiday, which'll be heaps of fun_…_"_

_There was a muffled knock on the front door._

"_That's them," Ben muttered. "Go let them in, Bobby, and be on your best behaviour. We want them to be impressed with you."_

_Bobby ran to do as he was told. There were two men at the door, one who introduced himself as Sydney, and the other who was introduced by Sydney as Mr Raines. Bobby decided instantly that he didn't like Mr Raines at all, but Sydney seemed okay._

_The tests turned out to be simple IQ stuff, and Bobby flew through all of it, feeling elated at the praise being dealt to him by the man called Sydney. The smirk from Mr Raines was making him uneasy, but he managed to ignore it. Finally, nearly two hours later, when Bobby was nearly falling asleep at the table, he heard Mr Raines speak to his father, and those words were burned forever into his memory._

"_He's as impressive as you promised, Mr Goren. We'll take him with us immediately."_

_Bobby looked around at his father, suddenly more than a little frightened at the thought of going anywhere with the creepy Mr Raines. What he saw left him speechless with fear. His father stood in the archway behind him, and at his feet there were two small suitcases, and Bobby's school backpack._

"_I've got his things ready," he said gruffly._

"_That wasn't necessary," Raines said glibly. "He won't need any of that where he's going. Everything will be provided."_

"_Daddy?" Bobby asked, tears filling his eyes. "What's going on? Are you sending me away like Mommy?"_

_Ben Goren blanched visibly, and he crouched down and swept the little boy up into a fierce hug._

"_No, Bobby, I'm not. I told you, they have a special program that they want you to join, but you have to go now."_

"_W… When will I get to come home?"_

"_You'll be home before you know it," Raines told him in what Bobby assumed was supposed to be a soothing tone. It sounded more predatory to him._

"_You promise?" Bobby whispered, looking up into his father's eyes pleadingly. "Do you promise, Daddy? I can come home again soon?"_

"_Yeah, real soon, Bobby," Ben said, unable to hold his son's stare. Bobby stared at him for a long moment before resigning himself to what seemed to the inevitable. Drawing back from his father's not-so-protective embrace, Bobby turned and walked over to Sydney – not to Raines – and as their car took him away from his family, away from his home, and away from the only life he knew, he felt something die within him. It wouldn't be until much later that Bobby Goren would be able to pinpoint what that little something was that was snuffed out inside of him that night. It was hope_…

* * *

"He sold me," Bobby whispered, shaken to the core by the memory. "My own father… He sold me…"

Dimly, he was aware of strong arms slipping around his shoulders, attempting to offer some comfort. He gave initial resistance, but then his strength of will finally broke altogether and he gave in to that reassuring embrace.

"I'm sorry, Bobby," Deakins murmured as the detective sobbed in helpless distress into his shoulder. "I am so sorry."

Even in the midst of his distress, Deakins' words registered in Bobby's mind, and he pulled back slowly, looking tiredly at his captain.

"For what?"

"You were already in that place when I started serving on the Force in Delaware. I could have… I _should_ have done something. I heard enough rumours about what was going on in there, but I listened to my superiors, and did nothing."

"But you did do something," Bobby said softly. "When Mrs Parker went to you for help, you listened. And… and you kept your word and were there to meet us when she brought me out. You drove me all the way back to New York. You put yourself at risk for a boy you didn't know. Don't say you did nothing. If it wasn't for you, I wouldn't have escaped. I… I don't know what would have happened to me if it hadn't been for you."

Deakins sighed softly.

"It doesn't seem enough."

Bobby shut his eyes.

"I… I worked so hard to bury those memories. I don't want to remember it… Any of it. Why did he have to show up now? Why did he have to come and remind me?"

"How much did Jarod tell you before you had the panic attack? What do you remember?"

Bobby's breath caught in his throat as the main gist of what Jarod had been trying to tell him came back to him.

"The Centre… They want me back. They… They've sent agents after me."

"Yes," Deakins agreed, "and they're not going to get you. I promise you that."

Bobby looked at him, stricken.

"You can't guarantee that," Bobby said. "You know how ruthless they are."

"All the same," Deakins said, "I give you my word that I'll do everything in my power to make sure you stay safe."

"What will you do?" Bobby asked hoarsely. "Lock me away somewhere? Maybe at Carmel Ridge, with my mom…"

"What we're going to do," Deakins said, a slight edge to his voice, "is hear Jarod out. Listen to what he has to say, and pay heed to whatever advice he has to give. None of this is going to be in any way pleasant for you, Bobby, and you're going to have to remember things that I know you'd rather not. But we are going to find a way through this. Will you trust me now?"

Bobby watched Deakins with a sad, weary gaze.

"I always did. Captain, could you send Jarod in here? I need to talk to him, but I… I'm not sure I can face everyone just yet."

"You have nothing to be ashamed of, Bobby," Deakins assured him. Bobby smiled weakly.

"I know that. It's just a bit much to… to deal with right now."

Deakins nodded in acquiescence.

"All right. I'll send him in. Are you going to be okay?"

"I don't know," Bobby admitted softly. Deakins clapped his shoulder gently, reassuringly, before standing up and heading out of the bedroom.

* * *

The silence in the living area was palpable, and enough to give Deakins pause as he exited Alex's bedroom. Four heads came up, and though no words were spoken, the looks he got were all the same.

"He's awake," Deakins told them in answer to their collective unspoken question. He turned his gaze to Jarod. "He wants to talk to you."

Jarod stood up slowly. He was almost frightened to ask, but Deakins seemed to anticipate him.

"He remembers. He doesn't want to, but he does."

Unable to feel any sense of relief in that, Jarod started to walk past him, but Deakins caught him by the arm.

"Listen to me, Malone. Be careful what you say to him. He's clinging to reality by a thread right now. It won't take a lot to push him over the edge. Do you understand me?"

Jarod nodded, holding Deakins' gaze as he replied.

"I understand. I promise you, I'll be careful."

With some reluctance, Deakins let Jarod go, and the younger man disappeared into the bedroom.

"How is he?'' Mike asked quietly. Deakins walked around and sank into the sofa, next to Alex.

"Not so great. It's a hell of a shock for him, to suddenly be confronted with the knowledge that five years of his life was a carefully constructed lie."

"I just can't believe he didn't remember any of it," Alex said softly. "How could he so completely override memories like that?"

"The mind is very resilient, Alex," Carolyn answered. "It's very good at repressing very bad memories. All it would have taken to help Bobby replace his memories of that place with ones he could cope with would have been the power of suggestion. If he wanted to forget badly enough, it wouldn't have been that hard to do."

"He didn't forget it completely," Mike pointed out. "Not if he's been having nightmares about it. Just last night…"

"Mike!" Alex hissed, and he promptly went red as he realised his blunder. Deakins raised an eyebrow in reaction.

"Last night…? On the stakeout? Bobby fell asleep while you were on surveillance?"

Alex didn't reply, except to glare ferociously at Mike. A moment later, Deakins chuckled grimly.

"Relax, all of you. I'm not going to step into him over it. Certainly not now. But you said he had a nightmare?"

Alex nodded.

"Yes. He was talking in his sleep. He said 'refuge, Sydney, please, refuge'."

"Refuge," Carolyn mused. "That was what was on that disc that Jarod showed us. Jarod said refuge."

"He didn't say it," Mike corrected. "He practically screamed it. Didn't he say that refuge was their safety word?"

"Meaning that it was what they said if they wanted to stop," Carolyn guessed.

"Small comfort," Alex said bitterly. Deakins sighed.

"Yes," he agreed softly, his gaze going to the closed door of Alex's bedroom. "I imagine it must have been."

* * *

Jarod entered the bedroom slowly, not quite sure what to expect. Bobby sat on the side of the bed, shoulders hunched and elbows resting on his knees. He watched as Jarod walked in, not saying a word until the other man was finally seated beside him.

"You're a lot taller than I remember."

Jarod blinked, taken aback by the odd statement. A moment later, the absurdity of it struck him, and he began to laugh. Bobby smiled, and then chuckled softly, unable to keep a solemn front.

"So are you," Jarod pointed out, grinning.

"I… I don't remember everything," Bobby said uncertainly. "Just… bits and pieces. It'd hard, trying to sort out the real memories from the false ones."

"It will come back to you," Jarod told him.

"I don't want it to," Bobby said. "I don't want to remember it."

"I know," Jarod murmured. "I'm sorry, Bobby. I really am, and I would never have come if I didn't think it was necessary."

"How did you find out? That they were going to come after me, I mean."

Jarod hesitated for just a moment before answering.

"Sydney warned me, and asked me to help you."

Bobby responded to that with silence.

"Sydney?" he echoed finally. "Sydney… from the Centre?"

"He can be trusted," Jarod insisted, on hearing the scepticism in the other man's voice. "He's helped me a lot over the last ten years."

Bobby looked doubtful, and Jarod supposed he couldn't blame him. He tried again to reassure him, though.

"Sydney's not a bad person, Bobby. Out of everyone involved in the Centre, he's probably the only one we can really trust."

"_You_ trust him," Bobby grumbled. "Not me. I barely have a reason to trust you."

Jarod supposed he had to concede to that point.

"It isn't Sydney that you need to worry about, Bobby. It's Miss Parker, Mr Lyle and Mr Raines."

Bobby sucked in a sharp breath at the unwelcome memories that last name prompted.

"Raines…? That evil son of a bitch?"

"I see you remember him," Jarod commented, and Bobby nodded.

"Yes. I remember him. I'm sorry to hear he's not dead."

"Unfortunately," Jarod agreed. "And he's more evil than ever."

Bobby shuddered.

"Wouldn't have thought that was possible."

"Look, Sydney believes that Raines is behind the decision to reacquire you, but he doesn't know why. You're going to have to try and remember what he was working on with you before Catherine Parker got you out."

Bobby stared away to the floor, ashen-faced.

"I don't think I can."

"I understand how hard it is, Bobby…"

Bobby glanced sideways at him, and smiled weakly.

"I… I guess you do. But I really don't know if I can bring myself to remember. The… The simulations I did with Sydney were bad enough, but what Raines did to me…"

Jarod was silent for a long moment before speaking softly.

"Bobby, did you ever have contact with a boy called Kyle?"

"While I was in the Centre, you mean?"

"Yes."

Bobby fell silent, searching his memory for any recollection of someone called Kyle.

"I remember there was another boy there. He was definitely Raines' favourite. I… I remember he scared the hell out of me."

Jarod nodded grimly.

"That was Kyle. My younger brother."

Bobby blanched visibly.

"Your brother?"

"Yes. He was taken not long after I was. Raines had no control over him. The son of a bitch turned him into a pure psychopath. He turned him into a killer. And then, when he didn't have any further use for him, he had him killed."

Bobby let his breath out in a long hiss as he processed Jarod's bitter words.

"So I wasn't the only one that Raines tormented."

"No, you weren't. You're wrong about one thing, though. You _were_ Raines' preferred choice, not Kyle. He devoted a lot of time and attention to you, and he was furious when you escaped."

"You really believe that Raines has a specific purpose in wanting me back?"

Jarod regarded him sympathetically.

"If he didn't, they wouldn't be trying to get you back. They would have just put a bullet in your head."

Bobby sat still and silent for nearly a minute before speaking again.

"And if they can't… reacquire me?"

Jarod didn't hesitate in answering. He knew there was no point in trying to cushion the grim truth.

"If they can't get you back, then they will try to kill you."

Bobby shut his eyes briefly, trying to calm the feeling of panic starting to rise within him.

"They tried to get you back… didn't they?"

"Yes. They're still trying, although not as hard as they once did."

"How did you keep from being caught by them?"

"I kept moving. I never stayed in one place for too long. I became exactly what they trained me to be; a pretender. You name it, I've done it."

Bobby shook his head.

"I can't do that. I can't be on the run. I can't live like that."

"I know," Jarod agreed. "We'll find an answer. Somehow, we'll find a way to convince them never to go after you again."

* * *

_tbc..._


	5. Making Plans

Alex shot to her feet as Bobby and Jarod finally emerged from the bedroom. She hurried over, and took Bobby's hands in her own, looking up at him with anxious concern.

"Are you okay?"

"Honestly?" Bobby answered softly. "No. I'm not."

"Come and sit down," she urged him, and it was a testament to his state of mind that he never argued with her.

"All right," Deakins said firmly once they were all seated again. "We need to talk this situation through. Bobby, do you feel up to that?"

The detective only nodded, not trusting himself to speak. Deakins regarded him critically before conceding.

"Okay, then. Jarod, tell us exactly what you know."

"Well, what do you want to know?"

"How about you start with explaining why you and Bobby ended up in this place… whatever it's called," Mike said. Jarod conceded with a nod. Yes, he could do that.

"I've already told you a little about the Pretender Project that the Centre ran. Basically, it was a project that had the express purpose of manipulating the intelligence of children. We were put through simulations, like the one I showed you earlier. We were used to determine the possible outcome of numerous scenarios… or to find answers to something that had already happened. For example, I was the set the problem of designing a building that was impervious to earthquakes. I did it, but I warned that explosions at strategic places would bring the entire thing down. My design was used to build the World Trade Centre, but the information about its weakness was sold to the highest bidder. I don't think I need to remind you about what happened there."

"So, you used a type of role-playing to get results for these experiments?" Carolyn asked.

"It wasn't just role-playing," Jarod said. "When we were given a situation, a new role, we didn't just play at that role. We _became_ it. It was as real for us as being cops is real for all of you. We were led to believe that the simulations we completed were to be used to help people, but in reality it was the complete opposite. Sim results were sold to the highest bidders, and usually for pure financial gain and evil purposes. I escaped when I finally learnt the truth about what the Centre was doing."

"Bobby?" Alex asked softly. "How did you end up there? Do you remember?"

He looked around at her slowly, tears rimming his eyes.

"My father. It… It was my father. Mom had just had her first breakdown. I don't know if Dad couldn't cope… or if he just didn't want to try… but he found out about the Centre somehow, and its program… and he handed me over to them in exchange for financial assistance for him, Mom and Frank."

"Your old man sold you?" Mike asked, horrified.

"Oh god, Bobby," Alex whispered, slipping a comforting arm around his shoulders as his gaze dropped back to the floor.

Deakins looked questioningly at Jarod.

"Did you know?"

"About that?" Jarod asked. "No. The story I got was that the Centre took Bobby in when his parents abandoned him."

Bobby gave a strangled laugh that caused them all to cringe.

"The irony is, that's not so far off the truth."

"So Bobby was in that place for five years," Deakins said quietly. "You said Raines shared control of him with Sydney?"

Jarod took a moment to consider his next words.

"I remember when Bobby was brought to the Centre. There was a lot of excitement over him. You see, there were a lot of kids that the Centre had acquired through one means or another, but Bobby was by far the smartest… the one with the most talent for being a Pretender. The Centre… and Raines… would have had big plans for him. When Catherine Parker smuggled Bobby out, it threw the place into chaos for months."

"Do you have any idea at all what those plans might have been?" Carolyn wondered, but Jarod shook his head.

"Raines was always intensely secretive about what he was doing. Very few people knew the details. The only way we might be able to work it out is if Bobby can remember the simulations that Raines did with him."

"I can't," Bobby said in a soft but determined voice. "Not yet. I… I'm not ready."

"No one's going to force you, Bobby," Deakins reassured him, sparing Jarod a brief warning glance. "You'll remember it when you're good and ready to. Right now, we need to deal with the current issue, and that is preventing the Centre from getting their hands on Bobby again. We know for a fact that Centre operatives are already in New York. Jarod, do you have any ideas at all?"

"Well," Jarod said, "for starters, it's vital that he never goes anywhere on his own. Not for any reason."

Mike nodded confidently.

"We can cover that."

Jarod looked over at Bobby.

"And never go anywhere unarmed. They _will_ shoot you to bring you down, if they feel it's necessary."

"How would they be likely to try and trap him?" Alex asked, acutely aware of the way that Bobby tensed at her question.

"I doubt they'll try and take him in public," Jarod said thoughtfully. "It isn't the same as when they were chasing me. Bobby _is_ a cop, and if they try anything in public view, they're likely to find themselves on the wrong end of a lot of guns. No, they'll try to trap him in more subtle ways." He looked from Alex to Deakins, and then finally back to Bobby. "You have to be careful about contact from informants, friends, colleagues… even family. Lyle and Parker will use anyone if they think it will bring you to them."

Mike looked grimly at Bobby.

"You're not going to be able to go anywhere near your mom until this is resolved," he said. Bobby stiffened, but Deakins got in before he could protest.

"He's right, Bobby. Your mother will be the first one they'll try to use. We can't take the risk. Any call that comes from Carmel Ridge could very likely be a trap." He paused, and then added, "In fact, it might be better if we arranged to move your mother elsewhere for the time being."

At that suggestion, Bobby shook his head almost violently.

"No. No, we can't move her. She wouldn't be able to cope with that."

"Okay," Deakins conceded, deciding he would try again when Bobby was less agitated. "I'll call Dr Shimo, and tell him that no one except me is to be allowed to visit Frances, and I'll visit her every Wednesday so that her routine isn't disrupted.

Bobby didn't look happy, but conceded grudgingly. Little though he liked it, he knew Deakins was right.

"And he can't go home, either," Carolyn added. "They'd be waiting for that chance."

By that time, Bobby was starting to look seriously aggravated.

"Do you think any of you might be able to include me in the decision-making?" he asked heatedly. "You're all sitting here, making decisions about me… for me… like I have absolutely no say over my own life! Excuse me, but isn't that what we're trying to avoid with the Centre?"

A guilty silence reigned as they realised just how right he was.

"All right, Bobby," Deakins said quietly. "Talk to us, then. What do _you_ want to do?"

Bobby drew in a long breath. What _did_ he want to do?

"I don't want to stop living my life," he said softly, but with steel in his voice. "I… I won't go into hiding."

"We aren't expecting you to…" Alex started to protest, but he cut her off.

"And I won't ride a desk, either."

"Bobby, be reasonable," Deakins begged him. "This is a viable threat. These people are going to be watching for an opportunity to grab you, and if you're out on the streets, it's just going to make it that much easier for them!"

"These people," Bobby countered, "are scum, and I won't give in to scum. And hiding myself away is no solution. Not to mention it'll drive me up the goddamn wall. I'll swallow being babysat twenty-four/seven. I'll cope with not being able to see Mom. But I will not tuck myself away in a corner and hope the situation changes. Because it won't, and we all know it."

Grim silence reigned as the others all looked at each other.

"All right, Bobby," Deakins finally. "You win. But Carolyn is right. You can't go back to your apartment. It just isn't safe."

"I can't stay here, either," Bobby pointed out. Alex started to protest, but Bobby went on quickly, anxious to explain himself without insulting her. "When they see I haven't been back home, what's the next place they're likely to try? My partner's place. I can't stay here. It won't be long before they start watching this place, too."

"He is right," Jarod admitted. "They'll start watching here when he doesn't go home."

"So where is he going to stay?" Mike asked. "Not that I'd object, but my place isn't exactly built for two."

Deakins smirked.

"Relax, Mike. He can come and stay and my place. Angie and the girls are away at the moment, visiting her sister in Connecticut. So there won't be any need to explain anything."

"Wonderful," Bobby grumbled, much to the amusement of the others. Not only do I get to have adult supervision for god knows how long, now I get to have a sleep-over at the captain's house, too. Whoopee."

"Careful, Goren," Deakins warned him, at the same time fighting to suppress a grin. "You don't want a curfew imposed as well, do you?"

Bobby grimaced. He hadn't had to obey a curfew since his army days.

"You wouldn't…"

"Don't tempt me. Anyway, you won't be there on your own. Alex, Mike and Carolyn will be joining you, too."

Startled silence met Deakins' announcement.

"Hang on a second…" Mike started to protest, but Jarod nodded enthusiastically, seeing where Deakins was going with it.

"There is definitely safety in numbers."

"Well, it does make sense," Carolyn conceded.

"Great," Bobby muttered sullenly, scowling at the floor. "It just graduated from babysitting to a posse."

* * *

"Bobby?"

Bobby looked up slowly from his paperwork at tentative query from his partner. It was a few hours later and, after a roaring argument between Deakins and himself, the captain had finally consented to allowing him to return to One Police Plaza with them. So far there had been no sign of Parker or Lyle, and a lull seemed to have settled; though, how long that would last was anyone's guess.

"What is it, Eames?"

She hesitated in speaking. He looked tired, and drained, and he sounded it as well. The entire bizarre situation, combined with the resurfacing of some truly horrible memories was just about more than he could cope with.

"Are you okay?" she asked finally, silently berating herself for how woefully inadequate that sounded. He stared at her inscrutably for a long moment before returning his gaze to his paperwork.

"I'm fine."

She couldn't bring herself to be annoyed at his clipped reply. The anxiety he had to be experiencing had to be nearly intolerable.

"If you like, I could take some of your paperwork…"

She was startled into silence, along with nearly everyone else in the bullpen, when Bobby suddenly slammed his fist down so hard on the desk that there was an ominous cracking sound beneath the blotter. Looking everywhere but at his partner, Bobby then launched himself to his feet and stormed off towards the interrogation rooms.

"What the hell was that all about?" Mike asked, walking over and lifting the blotter carefully. Alex shook her head, dazed by her partner's unexpected explosion.

"All I did was offer to do some of his paperwork for him. Normally he'd jump at the offer."

"Except, there's nothing normal about what's going on right now," Mike pointed out. "Damn, he cracked the wood. Get a load of this!" He paused, and then looked around at the other detectives who were still staring. "Don't you all have work to do?" he demanded hotly, and they quickly turned back to what they'd been doing.

Alex looked away in the direction of the interrogation rooms, worry creasing her features.

"I should go talk to him."

"No, let me," Mike urged her. Alex raised an eyebrow at him.

"You saw how pissed off he was. What if he takes a swing at you?"

Mike shrugged.

"I'll duck."

* * *

He found Bobby in Interrogation One, pacing back and forth like a caged tiger. Mike watched him from the doorway for nearly a minute before speaking.

"You want to talk about what's got you so hot under the collar, or should I just lock you in until you're ready to stop snapping at your poor partner, who's only concerned about your wellbeing?"

Bobby slowed to a halt and glared around at Mike.

"Lay off the guilt, Logan."

Mike took a few steps into the room, but was careful to stay beyond arm's length of his colleague and friend.

"What are you really pissed off about, Bobby? And don't tell me it was Alex offering to do your paperwork."

"It wasn't that," Bobby muttered. "At least, it wasn't _only_ that." He stood silently for a long moment before dropping into one of the chairs. "I won't deny this has shaken me up, but I'm not going to break. But you're all treating me with kid gloves, like that's exactly what _will_ happen! The only thing that will keep me balanced is if I can rely on all of you to act normally around me."

"Alex is worried, pal. We all are."

"And you think I'm not?" Bobby shot back. "I… I'm scared, Mike. I'm more scared than I've been for a long time. And these memories that are coming back… I don't want it, not any of it! But I know that's not an option. So I have to deal with it, and the only way I can do that is by trying get on with things as normal. And that's going to be damned hard if everyone around me is behaving like… like…"

"Like a bunch of paranoid spooks?" Mike suggested when Bobby faltered. The two men stared at each other for a long moment and then, at the same time, both burst into laughter.

"Yes, like that," Bobby said finally, wiping at his eyes and chuckling softly. Mike walked over and dropped into the chair beside his fellow detective.

"What do you expect us to do, Bobby? Act like there's nothing going on? We can't do that anymore than you can. We've all got to keep our guard up now, and if that means acting paranoid, then that's how it has to be."

Bobby sighed.

"Just the little things. Like Eames offering to do my paperwork. I just don't appreciate being treated like I'm fragile. She'd kick my ass if I did that to her."

Mike grunted.

"Yeah, I bet she would, too. Look, if it'd make you feel any better, you can do _my_ paperwork. I promise I won't be offended."

Bobby smirked, and then laughed once more.

"Jerk."

"And proud of it."

Bobby sighed softly.

"I suppose I owe Eames an apology."

"Nah. She's more likely to give you one."

"I think I'll apologise anyway."

Mike raised an eyebrow incredulously.

"Even when you don't need to?"

A fleeting grin passed over Bobby's lips as he got slowly to his feet.

"Sooner or later, you'll learn that apologising is the best avenue, Mike. _Especially_ when you don't need to."

Mike shook his head, but any reply he'd planned on making was lost as Bobby's cell phone suddenly beeped to alert him to an incoming message. He pulled the phone out, and frowned as he looked at the ID.

"It's a message from Eames…" He flipped the phone open, and read the message out loud. "Stay where you are. Parker and Lyle just walked in…"

"Oh, crap," Mike muttered. Bobby promptly started towards the door, forcing Mike to jump in front of him. "Where the hell do you think you're going?"

"Out there," Bobby growled, scowling as he tried unsuccessfully to get around Mike. "I want to see those two clowns with my own eyes."

"Don't be an idiot," Mike argued. "If they see you…"

"Then what?" Bobby shot back. "They'll try and take me in the middle of our squad room? They'd never make it out of here alive, Mike. Besides, they must know I'm here. Otherwise, why would they have bothered coming in again?"

Mike had to concede that point.

"Okay, maybe that's true, but…"

"Let me past, Mike. Don't make me ask you again."

Mike winced. He knew that tone all too well. He could stand aside and let Bobby past, or face the risk of getting flattened. Deciding to bow to Bobby's logic and hoping that Deakins and Alex didn't flay him alive for it, Mike reluctantly let his friend past.

* * *

Deakins spotted Parker and Lyle as they came around the corner, and his first reaction was one of relief that neither Bobby nor Jarod were in sight. Bobby had stormed off somewhere not five minutes ago, in a temper over something, and Jarod had gone off nearly two hours ago to meet with someone about the situation – updates pending.

His second feeling was one of anger. How, in the name of God, did the two of them get past security, when he had specifically requested they be prevented from accessing anything other than One Police Plaza's lobby? Someone's head was going to roll, without a doubt.

Hoping fervently that Bobby stayed out of sight, Deakins walked out into the bullpen to confront the two head on. Damned if he'd be discreet about it. These two presented a direct threat to one of his detectives, and he was going to make sure the entire squad knew it. Regardless of whether they liked Bobby Goren, Deakins knew beyond a doubt that there was not one among them who would tolerate one of their own being under threat.

"Where is he?" Lyle demanded, and once again Deakins felt a slight chill of fear. A man who had the balls to walk into a place like the Major Case squad rooms and start making demands was either stupid or insane, and Deakins was fairly sure it wasn't the former.

"Detective Goren is not available to speak to you," Deakins said heatedly.

"Cut the crap, Captain," Parker retorted. "We know he's here. All we want is to talk to him. Why is that so difficult?"

With his peripheral vision, Deakins noted all the detectives currently present in the bullpen slowly abandoning what they were doing to watch the unfolding scene. _Good_, he thought. _Now I have witnesses_…

"I didn't say he wasn't here," Deakins threw back at her. "I just said that he wasn't available to speak to you."

Lyle's expression turned dangerous at the perceived evasion on Deakins' part.

"You don't understand what you're dealing with here, Captain. It would be beneficial to everyone if you'd just cooperate with us. That way, we can avoid unnecessary casualties."

Deakins didn't flinch.

"Did you just threaten me, Mr Lyle?"

Lyle opened his mouth to respond, only to falter as he realised their exchange was no longer private. He and Parker looked around to find several detectives standing nearby, watching the scene with piercing stares. Visibly unsettled, Lyle looked back at Deakins.

"I wouldn't dream of it, Captain."

"Is that all you wanted to say?" Deakins asked, taking care to keep his tone even and emotionless. Lyle started to concede with a nod when his companion suddenly nudged him. Deakins looked to see what had gotten her attention, and nearly cursed aloud when he saw Bobby emerging around the corner from the interrogation rooms, with Mike Logan close behind.

The two detectives halted on the other side of the bullpen, watching Parker and Lyle in silence. Lyle turned towards them, and his hand started to move towards his belt, and the inside of his jacket.

The reaction was immediate, and definitive. All of a sudden, no less than seven Major Case detectives had their guns out and aimed directly at the two of them. Lyle froze for several seconds, and then pulled his jacket open in a slow movement, showing not a gun, but a small clip attached to his belt that held what looked like business cards.

"Easy, people," Lyle said wryly as he withdrew a single card and pulled his jacket closed once more. "Let's not get trigger-happy, now."

He started across the bullpen, acutely aware of the multiple hostile stares that were focused on him. He was almost to Bobby, when Mike suddenly stepped in, blocking his path. Lyle looked up at the detective, visibly annoyed.

"Excuse me."

Mike didn't move, forcing Lyle to edge around him in order to come face to face with Bobby.

"Detective Goren?" Lyle asked. Bobby didn't respond. He only stared at Lyle with an inscrutable gaze. Lyle held out the card to him. "We have a business proposition for you. I'd appreciate it if you'd call me privately."

For several seconds, Bobby didn't move. Then, finally, he reached out and took the card, not removing his stare from Lyle.

"What do you want with me?" he asked quietly.

"Like I said, we have a business proposition to discuss with you."

"You mean, the Centre," Bobby said. Lyle looked almost amused.

"_I_ have a business proposition for you, Detective. I hope you'll at least give me an opportunity to explain it fully to you…" He paused, glancing around at the others who were watching with extreme suspicion. "_Away_ from people who might not be so receptive. Call me, Detective. Soon."

It was less a suggestion than an outright order.

"And if I don't?" Bobby asked. Lyle's eyes glinted.

"Trust me, Detective, it's in your interests to do as I say."

"That sounded like another threat," Bobby pointed out. Lyle smiled and laughed softly.

"No, not a threat. Just some friendly advice. I'll expect to hear from you in the next twenty-four hours. Believe me, ignoring us is not an option."

Turning, he stalked out of the bullpen, with Parker on his heels.

"All right," Jackson burst out once they were gone. "What the _fuck_ was _that_ about?"

"That," Deakins said grimly to the gathered detectives, "was two people from an unknown, illicit agency that is currently presenting a very real and viable threat to Detective Goren. I'm asking you all to be on alert from this point on, and if you see either of those two, or anyone else acting suspiciously, or if you intercept any attempts to lure Goren out on his own, to let me know immediately."

A murmur of consent swept through the group as they gradually returned to what they had been doing before the disturbance. As Deakins had hoped, they were all more than willing to come to the aid of their colleague, and would keep a close watch for anything happening that seemed out of the ordinary.

Finally galvanising herself to move from where she'd sat frozen at her desk, Alex stormed over to Bobby, thumping him angrily on the arm.

"Goren, you idiot! Did you, or did you not get the message I sent you?"

His cool demeanour vanished rapidly in the face of his irate partner, and he visibly cringed away from her.

"I did, but…"

She hit him again, this time on the other arm.

"Ow, Eames…" Bobby protested. He tried to move away, out of the line of fire, but she had him backed up against the wall and wasn't giving him an opportunity to escape.

"What the hell did you think you were achieving by letting them see you?" Alex demanded to know. She looked around at Mike, not waiting for Bobby to answer.

"And you! Why didn't you stop him?"

Mike held up his hands defensively, palms outwards, and took a long step away from her.

"I tried, but he wasn't having it."

"All right, Eames," Deakins said, keeping his voice deliberately low and calm in an effort to encourage her to cool down. "Calm down. Giving your partner matching bruises on his arms isn't going to make the situation any better."

Alex conceded and stepped away from Bobby, but the irritation on her face didn't diminish at all.

"I hope you're ready to camp out here, Goren," she snapped at him. "Because after this, there's no way we'll be able to get you out of here unnoticed."

A small grin lit up Deakins' face.

"I don't know about that. I think there might be a way to pull it off."

Bobby regarded Deakins uneasily.

"Why do I have the feeling I'm not going to like this?"

Deakins' grin widened. Oh, how he was going to enjoy this.

"Well, that depends. How do you feel about riding in the back of the meat wagon…?"

* * *

Sydney sat in the darkened coffee shop, absently stirring a long-cold cup of coffee. He'd been less than concerned when Lyle decided he wasn't to accompany them to One Police Plaza. Lyle seemed to be of the opinion that his presence might tip Bobby off that something was wrong. An amused smile curled up the corners of Sydney's mouth. As if Bobby didn't already know something was amiss. He found it hard to imagine that the child prodigy turned detective wasn't already clued in to the fact that there was trouble brewing. Especially if Jarod was around.

He sighed inwardly. He'd had no contact with Jarod, and had no idea if his message of warning had reached him. He hoped and prayed that it had, because he couldn't see any way out of the situation without Jarod's help. The Centre had too many connections in high places – including the NYPD – for Bobby to be protected by his position and public profile alone.

"Can I get you some fresh coffee?"

Sydney started to shake his head, only to freeze as the voice registered in his mind. He looked up, and his face lit up a moment later at the sight that met him.

"Jarod!" Sydney stood up quickly, and embraced the younger man in a fierce hug. "It's good to see you."

"You too, Sydney," Jarod murmured, returning the hug with equal enthusiasm.

"Sit," Sydney urged him. "Tell me, did you find him?"

Jarod nodded.

"I found him. He didn't consciously remember anything about the Centre at first, but he's starting to now. None of it's pleasant."

Sydney nodded sympathetically.

"I don't doubt it. Tell me, has he remembered anything about Raines' experiments?"

"If he has, he's not letting on," Jarod said. "It's been a pretty big shock to the system for him, and he doesn't trust me completely yet. Sydney, do you have any idea at all what Raines wants with him?"

"I wish I did," Sydney answered. "But I don't think anyone knows except, perhaps, the Director. Even Lyle has been kept out of the loop this time, and he's not happy about it."

Jarod sighed softly.

"I don't know what to do, Sydney. I don't know how to stop them from chasing Bobby."

"You'll think of something," Sydney assured him, but Jarod didn't look so certain.

"The problem is that I don't know who to trust. I don't know who in the NYPD might already be on the Centre's payroll. Can't you get me anymore information?"

"I'm sorry, Jarod," Sydney apologised. "Broots has been assigned elsewhere in the Centre for the time being, and Raines has been keeping Angelo on a very tight leash. I can't tell you anymore than I already have. I have nothing more to give you. I'm afraid you're going to have to work this out on your own."

Jarod grimaced.

"I was afraid you were going to say that."

"Tell me," Sydney murmured, changing the subject, "how is he? Not just with everything that's happening now, but how is he, generally?"

"He's made a life for himself," Jarod answered quietly. "He has good friends… a captain who cares about him… a career that he loves… I don't want to see him lose that, Sydney. I won't let it happen."

Sydney nodded wordlessly. This was why he had contacted Jarod as soon as he learnt of the Centre's intentions. Jarod alone had the determination and the intelligence to find a way to make Bobby Goren safe. If Jarod couldn't do it, then no one could.

"What about your father?" he asked, changing the subject yet again. "How is he?"

"He's good," Jarod answered. "He and Mom and Emily are safe. When this is resolved, I'm going to go and join them for a while."

Sydney nodded, but didn't ask where they were. He was happier not knowing.

"You might like to mention Bobby when you talk to your father next," Sydney suggested quietly. Jarod raised an eyebrow quizzically.

"Dad knew about Bobby?"

A small smile touched Sydney's lips.

"When Catherine Parker got Bobby out of the Centre, she didn't send him straight home to his parents. To do that would have only led to him being taken again. She had him taken to a safe house, and he stayed there for six months before he was sent home to his mother."

Jarod quickly caught on to what Sydney was hinting at.

"You're saying Dad was the one who hid Bobby from the Centre after he was rescued?"

Sydney nodded.

"Don't ask me how I found out. I can't tell you that. But it might be worth letting him know what's happening, just in case Bobby is in need of a safe house once more."

Jarod fell silent, wondering at Sydney's words. Sydney watched him silently for a few minutes before standing up.

"I'd better get back to the hotel, before Parker and Lyle do. It was good seeing you again, Jarod."

He started to walk past, but then stopped and spoke softly.

"Be especially careful, Jarod. I received word just a couple of hours ago that Raines is coming to New York himself to oversee this operation. He's determined to have Bobby back, no matter what the cost. Don't you or anyone else underestimate him, do you understand me?"

Jarod nodded in wordless acquiescence. Sydney clasped his shoulder briefly in a fatherly gesture before hurrying out of the coffee shop, and leaving Jarod to his thoughts and worries.

* * *

_tbc..._


	6. Confronting a Harsh Reality

**Warning**: This chapter is rated M, for implied torture. No actual descriptions, but then again, the imagination needs so little prompting...

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"You idiot, you nearly got us both shot," Parker snapped as she and Lyle stepped into the elevator. Lyle only smirked, unconcerned.

"Wouldn't have thought a few guns would bother you, Parker," he retorted. "But we got what we wanted. We've got him."

Parker raised an eyebrow critically.

"Oh? And what makes you so sure?"

"We know he's here. We have the building under surveillance. We just wait for him to leave, and then we take him."

Parker couldn't help it. She began to laugh, hard.

"Oh, you really are a moron, Lyle. Haven't you learnt anything at all from the ten years we've wasted chasing after Jarod? This guy is smarter than Jarod ever was. It's why we weren't simply ordered to put a bullet in him. Do you really think he'd be foolish enough to just walk out of here and into our hands?"

Lyle spared her an exasperated look.

"Do you have a better idea? Sis?"

Her laughter faded rapidly, to be replaced with a ferocious glare that Lyle had the good sense to cringe away from.

"Don't call me that, _ever_, you slimy little psychopath. And yes. I have a better idea."

Lyle watched, mystified, as she punched the button for the fourteenth floor.

"Where are we going?"

"To see someone who owes the Centre a very big favour."

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"Okay," Alex said tersely as she climbed out of the back of the coroner's van at the mortuary, "I just want to go on record as saying that out of all the things I've done as your partner, this beats everything."

Bobby didn't look especially amused as he emerged from the van behind her.

"Can I remind you that this wasn't my idea?"

"I know," Alex snapped. "And since I can't have a go at the captain, you get to be the whipping boy instead."

The instant the words were out of her mouth, Alex realised her mistake, and she wheeled around just in time to catch a glimpse of raw pain in Bobby's eyes.

"Oh god, Bobby, I'm sorry, I didn't mean…"

He silenced her with a single finger pressed to her lips.

"I know you didn't. Don't apologise. It's okay."

"Hey, you guys have a comfortable ride?"

Alex turned around just as Mike and Carolyn came around the corner.

"Wipe that grin off your face, Logan," she warned him. "Or next time you'll be the one riding in the meat wagon."

"You had to go together," Carolyn reminded her. "It would have looked strange for you to have left, but not Bobby."

"And on the plus side," Mike added as he peered past them into the back of the van, "you didn't have any company for the trip."

"Mike, you're walking on really thin ice," Bobby warned him as he took in the dangerous look that had descended onto his partner's face.

"Oh, and did I mention that you weren't followed?" Mike added quickly, stepping carefully back, away from Alex. "Which, if I remember, was the whole point of this."

Alex sighed.

"Well, at least something's gone to plan, then. So, what now?"

Mike rattled a set of keys.

"The SUV is around the corner. Next stop, Captain Deakins' home."

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"I need to see Lewis," Bobby said once they were on the move again. Carolyn looked back at him, puzzled.

"Can't you just call him? Going o see him could be risky."

Bobby sighed in audible frustration.

"I have to warn him about what's going on. I need to tell him to be careful, and I can't just do it over the phone. He won't believe me unless I tell him face to face. He'll just think I'm kidding. I… I don't want him in danger because of me."

"Then let me and Carolyn go see him," Mike said decisively. "We'll warn him. You can't go see him, Bobby. I'd bet a week's wages that they'd be ready for that."

"Mike's right," Carolyn agreed. "It isn't worth the risk. Let us go instead."

Bobby slumped back in the seat. He was clearly unhappy about it, but at the same time he could see the logic and the sense in their words.

"Okay," he conceded softly. "Okay."

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**_Lewis' Auto Shop_,  
_Later that day_**

Mike and Carolyn arrived at Lewis' shop to find the place eerily quiet. They stood just inside the garage door, looking around before Carolyn spoke.

"I'm not a mechanic, but shouldn't there be… I don't know… car sounds?"

"Theoretically," Mike mused. Drawing his gun and holding it at the ready, Mike ventured further in. "Hello? Police!"

Silence.

Glancing uneasily at Carolyn, Mike headed slowly towards the rear of the shop, where the office was located. He was almost there when a loud crash from inside the office galvanised both detectives into moving. Striding forward, Mike led the way into the office to find a scruffy-haired man crouching behind the desk, trying unsuccessfully to hide.

"You've gotta be Lewis," Mike said dryly, relaxing his grip on his gun slightly, but not ready to put it away.

The scruffy-looking head rose up slightly, revealing a pair of spectacled eyes.

"You… You guys are cops?"

"I'm Detective Barek," Carolyn answered, showing her badge to him. "This is Detective Logan. We work with Detectives Eames and Goren."

"Really?" Lewis asked timidly. "You… You're not just saying that?"

"No, we're not just saying that," Mike said, resisting an urge to roll his eyes. "Now, why don't you come outta there, so we can have an actual conversation?"

Lewis backed out from behind the desk, flushing red with embarrassment.

"S… Sorry. I… It's just, after those other guys, I'm kinda freaked out, you know?"

Mike and Carolyn exchanged glances.

"Other guys?" Carolyn echoed. "What others, Lewis?"

Lewis ran his fingers agitatedly through his hair.

"These guys in suits. They were here not half an hour ago. I thought they were cops, but they weren't."

"What did these guys in suits want?" Mike asked.

"It… It was weird," Lewis answered. "They were asking all these questions about Bobby. Like, when did I see him last, when did I expect to see him again, stuff like that."

Mike looked over at Carolyn, sharing a grim look with her before speaking again.

"How many guys?"

"Ah, two, to start with," Lewis said.

"A man and a woman?" Carolyn wondered, but Lewis shook his head.

"No, two men. Real CIA type guys. Suits, glasses, the works. I would've thought they _were_ CIA, except for the other guy. Now _he_ was creepy."

"Describe him," Mike urged him.

"Um… Well… He was bald and kinda shrunk… and he was dragging this oxygen tank around with him. Real Uncle Fester type job, you know?"

"Uncle Fester," Mike muttered. "Right. And what did Uncle Fester have to say?"

"He, um… he said that the next time Bobby called me, that I was to convince Bobby to come by and see me, and that I was to call him straight away…" Lewis gave a short, strangled laugh. "Like I'd do that to Bobby."

"These guys didn't hurt you, did they?" Carolyn asked, thinking quietly that Bobby would be furious if Lewis had been hurt by those goons.

"No, they didn't lay a finger on me," Lewis assured her. "But… the guy with the oxygen tank? He, um… he might've suggested that I _could_ get hurt if I didn't… you know… didn't do what they wanted."

"Okay," Mike said, barely withholding a sigh. "Grab your things, kid. We're taking you someplace safe."

To Lewis' credit, he didn't argue, but rather immediately began to grab items from the desk and the filing cabinet.

"Hey," he said, glancing back over his shoulder at the two waiting detectives, "do these guys have anything to do with what happened to Bobby when he was a kid?"

That drew a response.

"What do you mean, what happened to him as a kid?" Carolyn asked, trying to keep her voice even. Lewis hesitated, looking from one to the other uncertainly as he tried to decide what to say.

"Listen, I don't want it to get back to Bobby that I said any of this. I promised him a long time ago that I'd never tell anyone about it."

"It won't go past us, we promise," Mike told him. Lewis shoved a couple more items into his bag, and then moved towards the door.

"Can we, you know, get moving? I'll tell you what I know, but can we just get moving? Before those guys come back?"

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"All right, Lewis," Mike said wearily once they were on the road again. "Start talking."

"Okay," Lewis said nervously. "Bobby and I… We've been friends forever, practically. We were friends when Bobby's mom got sick. It was… um… about two weeks after his mom got taken off to the hospital that Bobby suddenly just wasn't there anymore. One day he was there, and the next he wasn't. And when I asked his dad where he was, he said he'd gone to stay with relatives. I asked when he'd be back, and his dad just said it'd be sometime soon. Like hell it was. It was five goddamn years before Bobby came home, and when he did, he was different."

"Different in what way?" Carolyn asked.

"Before, Bobby was kinda nervous… you know, with his mom getting sick, and all, but he was still fun to be with. When he came back, I can't remember him ever smiling, and he was sad… so sad. He never spoke, unless someone spoke to him first… It was like he'd lost his sense of identity… like he didn't know who he was anymore. He was never the same again. I mean, over the years he got better, but he was just never the same again. It's hard to explain. Before, Bobby was happy to be smart. After… It was almost like he was terrified that anyone would think of him as smart. He went out of his way to make people think he wasn't smart at all. He'd fail tests on purpose at school… stuff like that."

"Do you have any idea where Bobby was during those five years?" asked Carolyn. Lewis shook his head.

"No, I don't know. I never had a clue. But one thing I know for sure, he wasn't with any relatives. That was just some bullshit story spun by his old man. Bobby never talked about those five years to me, but there were times when he slept over at my place, and I'd wake up and hear him talking in his sleep. Sometimes he'd be really clear with what he was saying… Other times he'd be crying in his sleep. A few times, he actually woke up screaming. But he always told me he couldn't remember what the nightmares were about. I didn't believe him, but I wasn't game to push it, either."

"Do you remember what sort of things he'd say?" Mike asked. Lewis was silent for a long moment before answering.

"It was all kinda vague, but there were a few names. Um… Sydney… There was someone called Jarod that he called out for a _lot_… and there was another name that he screamed out a few times… oh… oh fuck…"

"What is it?" Carolyn asked. Lewis dug into his jacket, and pulled out a business card.

"The guy with the oxygen tank… Uncle Fester… He gave me this card and told me I was to call him as soon as I was in contact with Bobby." He handed the card over to Carolyn as he spoke. "The name that Bobby screamed out during his worst nightmares was always the same. It was Raines."

Carolyn glanced at Mike, and then looked down at the business card, and her breath caught in her throat. There was nothing on the card except a name and a cell phone number, and the name on the card was Raines.

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Deakins arrived at his home at the same time as Mike, Carolyn and Lewis. He climbed out of his car, watching with scepticism as Carolyn ushered Lewis out of the SUV.

"What's this about?" he asked, not sure whether to be annoyed or amused.

"Lewis here has had a visit from Centre operatives," Mike explained. "One of them was an Addams family reject by the name of Raines."

Any amusement Deakins had been feeling was gone in an instant.

"All right. Let's not do this out here. Let's get inside."

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They found Bobby and Alex in the family room, talking quietly over coffee. Their surprise at seeing Lewis was palpable, and Lewis smiled sheepishly at them as he followed Deakins, Mike and Carolyn through into the room.

"Hey, guys."

"Lewis?" Bobby asked in surprise and confusion. He looked over at Mike. "I thought you were just going to warn him?"

Mike shrugged, unapologetic.

"They beat us to him. We figured we'd be better off getting him somewhere safe, before they decide to use him… _proactively_."

Bobby looked back at Lewis, concern and regret replacing his puzzlement.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine, pal," Lewis assured him. "I'm more worried about you. Are_ you_ okay?"

To Lewis' mild surprise, Bobby didn't answer. Instead, he looked away, to the floor.

"Have you heard from Jarod?" Carolyn asked quietly of the captain. He nodded.

"I spoke to him just before I left One Police Plaza. He should be arriving here soon. I don't know whether he's had any luck. He wasn't exactly forthcoming over the phone."

"Jarod?" Lewis echoed in surprise. He looked first at Bobby, and then to Mike. "The same Jarod that…"

He trailed off too late, and Bobby looked up at him slowly, his expression laced with suspicion.

"The same Jarod that what? _What_, Lewis?"

Lewis sighed, and his shoulders slumped in defeat.

"I'm sorry, pal. I told them about when we were kids, and about the nightmares you had. I thought it might've been important. If I was wrong, then I'm sorry."

Bobby pressed one hand over his eyes, trying to fight off a sudden headache.

"No. You weren't wrong."

Deakins watched Bobby for a moment in concern before returning his attention to Lewis.

"Operatives were at your shop? Asking about Bobby?"

Lewis nodded, still keeping one eye on his friend as he answered.

"Yeah. There were a couple of guys in suits that could've doubled for cardboard cut-outs, they had so much personality, and there was this other creepy son of a bitch called Raines."

Bobby froze visibly, shock and borderline panic in his eyes.

"Raines? Raines is _here_?"

"Be calm, Bobby," Deakins told him firmly. "Lewis, are you sure that's who it was?"

"Well… He gave me a card with his name and number on it. Told me to call him as soon as Bobby called me."

"Describe him," Deakins said. Lewis frowned as he formed a mental picture of Raines in his mind.

"Um, bald, shrunk and dragging an oxygen tank."

"That's Raines," a new voice confirmed grimly, and they looked around to see Jarod standing in the archway. He came all the way in, his gaze sweeping across the entire group, but focusing primarily on Bobby. "I was warned today that Raines was coming. The situation just got that much more dangerous. It was bad enough with Parker and Lyle here, but Raines is an added complication we didn't need."

"What do you suggest we do?" Mike asked, not quite able to keep the scepticism out of his voice. He was still suspicious of Jarod, and of his apparently timely arrival. If Jarod noticed his biting tone, though, it didn't show.

"I want you to come with me, Bobby. There's a place I know of where you'd be safe."

Bobby regarded him with a flat stare.

"You want me to run away. Go into hiding."

"Not permanently," Jarod insisted. "Just until…"

"Until what?" Alex cut in sharply. "Until the Centre forgets about him again? Like they've forgotten about you?"

Jarod winced as the truth of her words hit home.

"I go into hiding now," Bobby said softly, "and I'll be hiding for the rest of my life. I can't do that, Jarod. I already told you, I won't live like that. I can't."

"This is going to get dangerous, Bobby," Jarod told him softly, pleadingly. "Everyone around you is going to be at risk. They'll use whoever they can to bring you to them. I… I don't know if I can protect you."

Bobby sighed softly, almost resignedly.

"It's a chance I just have to take."

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**_The Centre  
__1969_**

"_Where are we going?"_

_The exasperated question came from Miss Parker, and Jarod supposed he couldn't blame her. They had been following Angelo around inside the maze of ventilator shafts for what felt like hours now, and they didn't seem to be going anywhere at all._

"_Angelo, where **are** we going?" Jarod asked, but all he got in reply was an insistent 'ssh' from the younger boy. Rolling his eyes and offering Miss Parker an apologetic shrug, Jarod continued on behind Angelo, hoping that wherever the boy was leading them, they would get there soon. Preferably, before Sydney realised he was not where he was supposed to be._

_He was so caught up in his worries that he didn't realise that Angelo had come to a sudden halt, and he toppled into the child with a grunt. Miss Parker ran into him, and they ended up in a confused jumble of arms and legs. _

_Miss Parker began to giggle, and then so did Jarod as they tried to untangle themselves. It took a minute before they realised they could hear an all-too-familiar voice frighteningly close by. _

"_Isn't that…?"_

"_Dr Raines," Jarod whispered, all humour gone from his voice. He edged forward, towards the grate that Angelo had led them to, and peered out. Sure enough, there was Raines, supervising the placement of equipment that Jarod did not recognise._

"_What's he doing?" Miss Parker wondered as she crawled up beside Jarod. _

"_I don't know," Jarod whispered back. _

_They continued to watch as ominous looking machines were placed around the room with strategic precision, all directed by Raines. Most disturbing of all, though, was the chair that was in the middle of the room. A chair with restraints attached to it._

"_All right," Raines announced suddenly. "We're ready. Bring him."_

_The two Centre guards turned and marched out of the room, leaving Raines alone. As Jarod and Miss Parker watched, Raines turned to a small table near the chair, and uncovered a tray that had what looked like surgical instruments on it. _

"_What's he doing?" Miss Parker asked again, more than a hint of fear in her voice. This time, Jarod didn't answer immediately. He continued to watch with a growing feeling of dread._

"_We shouldn't be here," he whispered finally. "We should go. We should go now."_

_But he couldn't move. Some grim fascination held him to the spot, and he continued to watch the scene before them unfold with an ever growing sense of horror._

_The door opened again, and the men returned, this time guiding a child between them._

"_Oh my god," Miss Parker whispered in dismay. "Bobby_…_?"_

_Jarod said nothing, but watched in trepidation as his friend was brought over to Raines._

"_Hello, Bobby," Raines spoke to him in what Jarod supposed was an attempt at being friendly. Instead, it just sounded threatening. Raines went on in that same pseudo-friendly voice that sounded so menacing. _

"_Are you ready?"_

"_I don't want to do this," Bobby whimpered, tears trickling down his cheeks. "Can I please go back to my room?"_

"_I told you, you won't feel a thing," Raines insisted. "Now get into the chair."_

_Still, Bobby hesitated. _

"_If it's not gonna hurt, why are there straps there to hold me down?"_

"_It's just a precaution," Raines insisted. "Get into the chair, Bobby."_

_For a long moment it seemed the boy was going to comply. Then, abruptly, Bobby shook his head._

"_No. I don't want to do this."_

"_Bobby_…_" Raines growled, and made a grab for him. Bobby shrieked in terror, spun around and bolted for the door. He ducked past the two men who had brought him in and was almost there when a new figure suddenly stepped out of the shadows and grabbed him, lifting him clean off his feet and carrying him back over to Raines._

"_Daddy_…_?" Miss Parker whispered in confused dismay. Jarod said nothing. He continued to watch in horrified silence as Mr Parker carried the struggling child over and sat him firmly in the chair, holding him there while the Centre guards strapped him down. _

"_Just relax, Bobby," Raines murmured as he picked up a large syringe and filled it with a cloudy liquid. "Just a little prick, and then you won't feel anything."_

_Bobby cringed away, sobbing, as Raines lifted his shirt up and swabbed the pale flesh before injecting the contents of the syringe into the boy's stomach. _

"_Just a couple of minutes," Raines explained to Mr Parker as he put the syringe aside. "Then the anaesthetic should have taken effect."_

_Mr Parker nodded. _

"_Let me know how it works."_

_With a last glance at the sobbing child, Mr Parker turned and strode from the room. Raines waited until he'd gone before turning back to his tray and picking up a scalpel. Bobby's eyes went wide with terror, but before he had a chance to scream, or make any other sound, one of the guards jammed a gag into his mouth, effectively silencing him._

"_Oh god," Miss Parker whispered. "Please tell me he's not going to_…_"_

"_Just relax," Raines said again as he bent forward, scalpel outstretched. "I promise you won't feel a thing."_

_Miss Parker barely stifled a gasp, and threw her hands over her face, but Jarod continued to watch, his mouth dry with horror and sympathy for his young friend. He watched as Raines tortured the child, and he listened as Bobby's muffled screams of pain penetrated every fibre of his being. _

_It was a memory that would never be far from the surface of his mind_…

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jarod awoke with a violent start, lathered in sweat. He sat frozen for a couple of minutes while his mind struggled to come back to the present. For a long moment, he was still the young boy, hiding behind the grate of the ventilation duct, watching with sick horror as Raines tortured an innocent child.

He couldn't remember if he had told Sydney about what he'd seen. Perhaps he had, because he was sure he recalled overhearing Sydney demanding that Bobby be sent to the hospital wing for proper care. Or, had that been for something else entirely? He didn't know.

Sighing softly, Jarod sat up and stretched a little before looking around.

He remembered where he was, now. He was in the home of Captain James Deakins, Bobby's commanding officer, along with three of Bobby's fellow detectives and his best friend, Lewis. Looking around him, Jarod made out the figures of the men asleep around him. There was Lewis… and Mike Logan… and Bobby…

Jarod did a double-take. Bobby was gone.

For several seconds, panic threatened to overtake him. But then, he heard movement coming from the direction of the kitchen. After a moment, his sharp ears picked up a dull thud, followed by a voice cursing softly. Finally deciding, Jarod got to his feet and, careful to avoid the men who were still asleep on the floor, headed for the kitchen.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"You know, it's probably a lot easier with the light on."

Bobby looked up at Jarod from where he sat, one foot hooked up over his other knee so he could rub his toes.

"I prefer the dark," he answered simply. Jarod paused, and then walked all the way into the kitchen without turning the light on.

"Easier to hide?" he suggested quietly, and Bobby responded with a single nod.

"Something like that. Why aren't you asleep?"

"Nightmares," Jarod answered plainly. "I have a lot of them."

Bobby sighed softly and looked back to his jarred toes.

"You and me both."

"That's the reason you're up?"

Bobby didn't answer, though, his focus entirely on ministering to his foot. Jarod watched him for a long moment before trying again.

"My nightmares are usually about what happened to me in the Centre. But this one tonight… it was about you."

Bobby paused just briefly in his ministrations before returning his attention to rubbing his foot, not saying a word.

"Do you remember Angelo?" Jarod asked.

"No."

"He was another child that Raines experimented on. Raines did a lot of a damage to him. He led me and… and someone else to a room one day, where Raines was setting up an experiment. We watched him… experiment… on you."

Bobby drew in a slow, calming breath.

"It was just a nightmare."

Jarod was silent for nearly a minute before reaching across and catching hold of Bobby's shirt. Before Bobby could protest, Jarod lifted it up to reveal not one, but three long, thin, horizontal scars across his stomach.

More pale than usual in the dim light, Bobby jerked away, out of Jarod's reach, and quickly tucked his shirt back into his jeans.

"Those are nothing. Just… Just an appendix scar…"

"Firstly, it's the wrong place for an appendix scar," Jarod said softly. "Secondly… three of them? Who are you trying to fool, Bobby? Me, or yourself?"

A visible shudder passed through Bobby's shoulders.

"Please," he whispered, his voice cracking almost painfully. "Please, stop."

"The memories aren't going to stay buried forever," Jarod told him. "Sooner or later, they're going to find a way to the surface."

"I… I don't want to remember," Bobby whispered, and there was a note of desperation in his voice that Jarod understood all too well. "I'm afraid to remember what he did to me. I blocked it out for a reason, Jarod."

"I know," Jarod murmured. "I'm sorry for this. I really am. I wish I could say it doesn't matter… But it does matter. You and I both know it does."

Jarod had a hard time not jumping as Bobby thumped his fist down on the table.

"Why?" Bobby choked out, and Jarod thought he caught a glimpse of tears in the other man's eyes. "Why does it matter? Why do you think it's so essential to keeping me safe from Raines?"

"Because," Jarod said carefully, "if we know what he's planning, then we have a better chance to avoid it. When you go into a dangerous situation with your partner, doesn't it help to have all the information you can get? Going into a situation cold, with no grounding, is just asking for trouble. You know that as much as I do. It's the same concept here, Bobby. I know you don't want to remember, but you have to. For your own sake, you have to."

"It's too much," Bobby whispered. "Too much in too short a time. I… I don't think I can deal with this. I'm not sure I even want to try."

"Don't say that," Jarod begged him. "Bobby, it's always worth trying. Life is a gift… You can't just quit on it. It's always worth fighting for. And you have a life that is really worth that effort."

"It… hurts," Bobby stammered, even as he struggled to reign in the sobs that threatened.

"I know," Jarod sympathised. "I understand that. And it's not going to stop hurting anytime soon. I wish I could say it would, but we both know better than that. All I can say is that what you have here and now should make it worth the fight. Your family… your friends. Everything you have is worth fighting to keep. Don't give up on me, Bobby. Don't give up on yourself."

Bobby shook his head miserably.

"It's not that easy, Jarod."

"I know it's not. But that's why I'm here. To help get you through it. And the same with everyone else in this house. You're not alone, Bobby. Just remember that."

Tears spilled down Bobby's cheeks as Jarod's words slowly sank into his conscious mind.

"I'm trying to."

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_tbc..._


	7. Taken

Deakins arose the next morning to find Lewis and all of his detectives in the kitchen, sipping freshly-brewed coffee and talking quietly. His stomach clenched uncomfortably as he viewed the scene before him. Nearly all of his detectives. Bobby was not among them.

"Relax, Captain," Mike told him quietly as he observed the change in Deakins' expression. "Bobby's out back with Jarod. I think they've been out there half the damn night."

Deakins walked over to the window and looked out into the backyard. Sure enough, Bobby and Jarod were sitting on the porch, apparently deep in conversation.

"Is he all right?" he asked, meaning Bobby. Alex joined him at the window, and he could hear the pain in her voice as she spoke.

"We don't know. He came in a while ago to get some coffee, and we tried talking to him, but we couldn't get a word out of him. He just shut down on us. It seems like he won't talk to anyone but Jarod now." She paused, drawing in a long, steadying breath that, in reality, did precious little to calm her nerves. "He isn't coping, Captain."

"I know," Deakins agreed softly, not taking his eyes off the two men outside. "And the only thing that is going to change that for him is if we can put an end to this threat against him."

"How are we supposed to do that?" Carolyn wondered in confusion. "We don't even know where to start."

"I can think of a way," Mike muttered, only to yelp when Carolyn reached over and whacked him with a rolled up newspaper.

"I told you, idiot, blowing up the Centre is not an option."

"Well, maybe he will have to disappear for a while," he said with a resigned shrug. Alex rounded on him fast and angrily.

"Disappear, Mike? Is that the best you can come up with? Because, unless you had a sudden onset of deafness yesterday, Bobby said he can't do that."

Mike, however, didn't back down that time. He stood his ground, focusing his most intent stare on the diminutive detective.

"I don't like it anymore than you do, Alex, but unless you've got a better idea, then he just might not have a choice. His safety is important to all of us, and if going into hiding for the time being is the only way to keep him safe, then so be it. That's the way it will have to be."

"Try telling that to Bobby," Carolyn muttered.

"If it comes to that," Deakins said wearily as he finally turned away from the window, "then it will be up to all of us to convince him that that is what needs to happen."

"It'd kill him," Alex said softly, her voice tinged with desperation. "To have to hide himself away would kill him. If not physically, then emotionally. We can't force him into that."

"Our priority is to keep him safe, Alex," Deakins reminded her. "I don't like the idea of sending him away to hide either, but if it becomes the only option…"

He trailed off as the rear door suddenly opened, and Bobby and Jarod came back in. Both men looked grim, but Bobby in particular was looking more shaken than ever.

"Bobby?" Alex asked anxiously. "Are you okay?"

He looked at her for a long moment, before returning his gaze to the captain.

"I'm starting to… to remember."

Deakins motioned through to the family room.

"Let's all go and sit down."

They filed through to the family room. Rather than have Bobby sit in the big armchair, though, where he'd be at the centre of everyone's attention, Deakins instead urged him to sit on the sofa, with Alex beside him for support.

"All right, Bobby," Deakins said quietly. "Take your time. Talk to us."

Bobby didn't answer immediately, to no one's surprise. He sat in silence for nearly a minute before finally speaking, searching his mind for the best place to begin.

"I… I was scared of Raines, right from the start. He pretended to be friendly, but an idiot could have seen through the act he put on. At first, it was just simulations, like the ones Sydney had me do. Then one day… I think it might have been after I'd been there for around a year… Raines took me to a new area. He called it SL27."

"Sub-level 27," Jarod elaborated softly. "A veritable torture chamber."

"He ran simulations with me, but there were other experiments, too. And none of what he did to me down there was ever recorded. Not officially."

"What sort of experiments?" Alex asked, starting to feel distinctly queasy. Bobby's gaze was fixed on the carpet. He refused to look any of them in the eye. Not even Jarod.

"Medical experiments. Psychological experiments. He tested drugs on me… New types of anaesthetics… Hallucinogens… among other things. He was using me to test the human capacity for pain…"

"God almighty," Mike whispered. Still, Bobby refused to look up.

"Before Mrs Parker got me out, Raines was getting ready for something. I don't know what it was supposed to be, because I was rescued before he could initiate it. But it was going to be big. He was really excited about it… I remember that much. And seeing him that excited scared the hell out of me."

"In the couple of months before Catherine Parker rescued Bobby," Jarod explained quietly, "Raines had Bobby taken right out of Sydney's control, and moved down into SL27 permanently. She would never have been able to get to him then, except that Raines put him through a simulation that left him so badly hurt that he had to be transferred to the hospital wing. It was on his last night there, before Raines would have taken him back to SL27, that Catherine Parker made her move. She smuggled Bobby out of the Centre that night."

Deakins looked over at Bobby, puzzled.

"I don't remember seeing any sign of injuries on you."

Bobby wrung his hands together, almost overcome with anxiety.

"The damage done to me wasn't anything that was visible… on my upper body."

He didn't need to say anything more than that. The implication was all too clear, and Deakins sighed softly.

"Oh god… I'm sorry, Bobby. But now I understand her urgency when she came to me asking for help to get you out."

"We can't let them get their claws on him again," Alex said, her voice strained with tension. "No matter what it takes, we can't ever let that happen again."

"We don't intend to let it happen again, Alex," Deakins reassured her. "But Bobby, you have to accept that in order to protect you, we may have to resort to methods that you won't particularly like."

Bobby tried not to look resentful. He understood immediately what Deakins was hinting at.

"You mean protective custody."

"If necessary, that is one possible option," Deakins confirmed. "But also, letting Jarod place you somewhere safe, like he's already offered to do."

For several long seconds, Bobby said nothing. Then, finally, his shoulders slumped in defeat.

"Whatever you think you have to do. I… I just don't ever want to go back to that place. I… I'd rather be dead than go back there."

Beside him, Alex tightened her grip on Bobby's arm just fractionally. She understood the underlying meaning of Bobby's words, perhaps better than anyone else in the room.

"It won't come to that, Bobby. We'll keep you safe. Trust us to do that for you."

He looked down at her, a deep sadness in his eyes.

"But if there was no escaping it… I… I might…"

"No!" she burst out in distress. "You don't mean that! Bobby, you look me in the eye, and tell me you wouldn't ever do that to yourself!"

He didn't speak to answer her. He didn't need to. The look in his eyes gave enough of an answer.

"Bobby, please," Alex begged him. "Promise me that you'll keep fighting. Promise me that whatever happens, you won't give up!"

"I never really forgot," Bobby said abruptly, changing the subject with such speed that it left them all confused. He went on softly, the pain evident in his voice. "Even though I consciously blocked it all out, in truth I never really forgot."

"How do you mean, Bobby? Carolyn asked, acutely aware of Alex's state of high agitation and keeping her voice low and calm in an effort to project some sanity into the situation. Bobby looked from Carolyn to Alex, a haunted look in his eyes, and though he was speaking to all, his attention was exclusively on Alex.

"All my actions… my reservation, and my reluctance to let anyone get close to me… it's all related back to what happened in those five years. I convinced myself that it was because of my mother… and my father… but that was just the cover story."

"Bobby, what are you trying to say?" Alex asked him. He sighed a little.

"Did you ever wonder why I was always so careful not to let you see me without a shirt?"

"Goren…" Deakins said, his voice taking on a warning tone. He wasn't quite sure where Bobby was headed, and he had a suspicion that he did not want to know. Bobby, however, ignored him.

"Didn't you ever wonder why I refused all the times you asked me to go swimming… or anywhere that might possibly have involved taking my shirt off in front of you?"

Alex shrugged a little.

"I guess I always assumed you were just being professional…"

"That's one of the excuses I used. I always found some excuse, but the real reason was because I was afraid to let you see… because letting you see might have forced me to confront the truth. It was too easy to lie to myself, but I couldn't have lied to you. I've never been able to lie to you. If you'd seen, you would have wanted to know, and I… I would have had to tell you… and I couldn't cope with that."

"Bobby, see what?" Alex asked desperately.

Standing up unsteadily, Bobby first pulled off his sweater, and then his t shirt, revealing the heavily scarred flesh of his upper body.

"Dear God in Heaven," Carolyn whispered, her eyes welling up with tears at the horrific sight.

Alex said nothing, but rather stood up slowly to get a closer look at the multitude of scars that peppered Bobby's chest, back and sides. After a moment, she reached out with trembling fingertips to lightly brush over some of the marks, even as tears began to spill from her own eyes.

"Bobby… I don't know what to say," she whispered, looking up at him in grief. He returned her gaze with an anxious one of his own.

"Please say you'll forgive me?"

"Forgive you? Alex echoed, startled. "For what?"

"For… for hiding myself from you."

Suddenly not caring that Deakins was watching, Alex slipped her arms around Bobby and hugged him fiercely. With a shudder of relief, Bobby returned the hug.

"They're not going to get you, Bobby," she told him. "I promise you that. They'll have to go through me first."

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After some discussion, both calm and not so calm, it was agreed that they would all head to One Police Plaza together. Bobby would remain within its protective confines all that day, and then they would escort him and Jarod out of New York City, seeing them safely on their way to the safe house that Jarod had previously offered to him for sanctuary.

Bobby was not at all happy with the situation, but he seemed to have finally resigned himself to the fact that going into hiding was his best chance of escaping the Centre's clutches. His mood plummeted rapidly, though, and on arrival at One Police Plaza he grabbed a large pile of paperwork and files from his desk and shut himself away in one of the task rooms.

A number of times, one of his colleagues tried to draw him out, with one excuse or another, only to have Bobby either snarl at them, or ignore them completely. In the end, everyone gave up trying.

"He's really not dealing with this at all, is he?" Mike mused quietly when, as it neared the lunch hour, Bobby still hadn't emerged from the task room even for a simple cup of coffee. Alex scowled.

"What do you think, Logan? Tonight he'll be spirited away for God knows where, for God knows how long. Away from family, friends, work… everything that means something to him. How do you think _you'd_ feel?"

"Pretty lousy," Mike conceded. "I wish there was another way. But I really can't see it, Alex."

She sighed softly and slumped back in her seat, finally giving up on any pretence of doing work.

"I know. I just hate this. I hate knowing that Bobby will have to hide away from everyone, like some sort of fugitive. And don't say it's for his own protection," she growled, even before Mike had a chance to open his mouth. "I _know_ it is. But it doesn't make it any easier."

Mike watched as Alex got up and headed for the break room, shoulders slumped much in the same way Bobby's had been since the moment he'd resigned himself to the fact that he would have to go into hiding to escape the Centre.

"I never said it would," he murmured sadly to himself before heading back to his own desk.

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The cup of coffee descended into his line of sight, startling him out of his reverie. He looked up to find his partner standing there, watching him with a strange mixture of emotions on her face.

"Before you bite my head off," she told him with an edge to her voice, "I thought you could do with some coffee. I know you haven't had anything to eat or drink since we left Deakins' place."

Bobby regarded her for a long moment before sighing and accepting the coffee.

"Thankyou."

"Can I join you?" she asked in a softer tone. "Or would you rather continue to isolate yourself?"

"Just practising for the future," he said bitterly. Alex hesitated, and then sat down beside him.

"It's not going to be forever, Bobby. As soon as we resolve this, you'll be able to come home again."

He looked at her, then, and it was a struggle for her not to wince at the scathing look in his eyes.

"Am I the only one here with a grasp on reality? This isn't going to be resolved quickly, Alex. Not in days, or weeks… or even months. They've been chasing Jarod for _ten years_, and he's still on the run from them! Do you really think they'll just shrug their shoulders and say 'oh well', when they can't find me? It's not going to happen like that, and the sooner everyone realises it, the better."

Alex sat stiffly, torn between wanting to hug him and wanting to hit him. She finally settled for a subtle in-between, and reached out to cover his large hands with her smaller ones.

"We know, Bobby. We do. But we also have to keep some hope."

He looked away from her, but he didn't pull his hands away.

"I stopped hoping a long time ago."

Tears filled Alex's eyes, not for the first time that day, and she leaned forward to take his face gently in her hands, and draw him back to her.

"You listen to me, Bobby Goren. I am not going to just give up, and I'll be damned if I'll let you do that. We _are_ going to find a solution to this, and it's _not_ going to take forever. Not ten years… not even one. Do you hear me?"

A single tear trickled down Bobby's cheek, and he lifted a hand to close over hers, holding it to his cheek.

"I'll miss you most."

Shaking her head, Alex slid closer and put her arms around him in a fierce, protective hug.

"It'll be okay, Bobby," she whispered, drawing his head in against her shoulder.

"It's ironic," Bobby said, his voice trembling audibly as he struggled against the sobs that were trying so hard to escape.

"What is?" Alex asked, not releasing her grip on him.

"My… my mom. Her delusions about 'them' being after me… She wasn't so delusional after all, was she? Turns out she was right. 'They' really were after me. 'They' still are… and now I have to run away and hide because of 'them'."

Alex shut her eyes, and tightened her grip on him. She didn't care who happened to look in on them, didn't care if they were seen holding each other in this way. This would be perhaps their last chance to share a moment of closeness for God only knew how long, and she wasn't going to allow it to pass them by.

She was aware of the way he trembled almost violently in her embrace, and of the way his arms slowly found their way around her slender form. Before long, they were clinging ferociously to each other with a fervour born of sheer anguish.

No words were spoken by either of them for some minutes. It was only when they broke apart finally that they realised their shared embrace hadn't gone unnoticed. A polite, slightly embarrassed cough alerted them to the presence of their captain in the doorway.

"Goren, I need you to come with me," Deakins told him quietly. "I just took a call from the Chief of Detectives. He's got some questions for you about your current investigation."

"Now?" Alex asked. "Can't it wait?"

"Until when, Alex?" Deakins asked tiredly. "Tomorrow?"

Alex felt Bobby flinch, but he got stoically to his feet.

"Let me get my folder."

They watched him go, and then Deakins looked back at Alex.

"We weren't…" Alex started to say, but he cut her off with a shake of his head.

"It's all right, Alex. You don't have to explain anything. I understand."

"I'm going to miss him," she said softly, fresh tears welling in her eyes. "I don't want him to leave."

"Neither do I," Deakins murmured. "I just wish there was another way. But it's the only way we can guarantee to keep him safe."

"Why?" Alex choked out. "Why can't they just leave him alone? How can they think for a second that they have the right to do this to another person?"

"I wish I had an answer to that," he said softly. "I really do."

Bobby came back, folder in hand and a weary resignation on his face.

"I'm ready, Captain."

Deakins nodded.

"Okay. Alex, King and Jackson just arrived back from interviewing a couple of witnesses from the Bailey shooting. Get whatever they have from them, and we'll go over it together when Bobby and I get back."

Alex answered with a single nod and, sparing Bobby a reassuring smile, stepped past them both and headed away to where King and Jackson were waiting.

"Let's go," Deakins murmured, ushering Bobby towards the elevators.

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_The Centre_

Angelo sat at the keyboard of the computer, tapping away furiously and unrelenting, just as he had been doing for the last several hours. He showed no signs of fatigue or boredom, and his expression was one of absolute concentration, bordering on manic eagerness. The Centre staff who passed by paid him no heed. He was there at the behest of Mr Raines, and no one questioned Mr Raines.

And so it was that Angelo had the freedom to do as he would, and no one queried whether what he was doing was, in fact, for the Centre… or against it. No one paused long enough to notice the heavily encrypted files that Angelo easily hacked into, and no one noticed when he compiled vital information on a powerful public New York figure from highly secretive Centre records, and emailed it all to Sydney.

No one noticed when Angelo cleared the computer screen of that sensitive information, and replaced it with the image a child long gone from the Centre, a boy with whom Angelo had a strong affinity.

He reached out to touch the image on the computer screen, whimpering softly.

"Bobby run," he whispered, after looking around furtively to ensure no one was paying attention. "Coming… Coming for you… Run away…"

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_New York_

Jarod was on his way back to One Police Plaza after meeting with an old friend whom he had helped some years back, not long after he'd first escaped from the Centre. That friend had access to men and weapons, and was more than willing to help him protect Bobby from the Centre. He smiled to himself with satisfaction. They now had themselves an armed escort for when they left New York that evening.

Of course, he knew Bobby was unhappy with the decision but, like his friend's colleagues, he could see no other way. Once he was sure of Bobby's immediate safety, then he could go to work on the problem of how to turn the Centre off looking for Bobby. So far, he could only think of one method, and he hadn't bothered even attempting to raise it. There was no way that Bobby would agree to faking his own death, and Jarod knew it.

Faking his death would mean creating a whole new life for himself, and the detective clearly was not prepared to do that. And so, the ball was in Jarod's court to work out something else. He just hoped he would be able to figure it out soon.

He was just a few city blocks from One Police Plaza when his cell phone rang. Slowing to a halt and checking the number, he answered it warily.

"Hello?"

"_Jarod_?"

"Sydney?" Jarod asked, surprised by the unexpected contact. "How did you…?"

"_Angelo pinpointed your cell phone number to let me call you. Jarod, where are you right now? How far away are you from where Bobby is?_"

Jarod felt a chill race down his spine.

"Not far. Why…?"

"_Listen to me, there's no time. I received an email from Angelo. He hacked into Centre records and sent me a file. There is someone in One Police Plaza who is directly connected to the Centre._"

A cold lump settled in Jarod's gut and he began to walk, quickly, in the direction of One Police Plaza.

"Who?"

"_It's the Chief of Detectives. Apparently, the Centre assisted to get him into that position and now_…"

"Now, they're calling in the favour," Jarod finished when Sydney trailed off.

"_Raines, Lyle and Miss Parker left this morning with a full compliment of operatives,_" Sydney went on quickly. "_They didn't tell me where they were going, but they seemed confident that they would be successful. You have to get back there to warn Bobby. You have to get him out of there, **now**!_"

Jarod didn't wait to hear anymore. He ended that call and quickly called Bobby's cell phone, intending to tell him to get out of the building immediately, only to discover his call was being blocked. Sucking in a sharp breath, he tried Alex's cell, then Mike Logan's, and finally Captain Deakins'. He couldn't get through to any of them. Finally, as a last resort, he called One Police Plaza directly, and asked to speak to either Captain James Deakins or Detective Robert Goren. When he was told that neither was available to take phone calls, Jarod knew deep in his gut that he was already too late.

Snapping shut his cell phone, he took off at a run, hoping and praying that he would get back to One Police Plaza in time to help his friend.

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"Did the Chief tell you what he wanted to ask me?" Bobby asked, rummaging through his portfolio for the relevant case notes as they rode up to the fourteenth floor together. Deakins shook his head.

"He wasn't specific, except to say he wanted to talk to you about your handling of a witness."

The elevator slid to a halt, and Deakins stepped out, but Bobby didn't move. The doors started sliding shut again, and Deakins had to put his arm out to hold them open.

"Bobby? What's wrong?"

"Captain… if there were concerns about how I'd handled a witness, it's protocol for it to go through you… not directly from the Chief of D's."

Deakins nodded.

"I know. I raised that point with him, but one of the witnesses you spoke to a few days ago… Catherine Tompkins?"

Bobby nodded wordlessly.

"Apparently she's the goddaughter of Senator Brian Miller, who's a personal friend of the Chief. Chief Harris assured me that he's not planning on ripping into you. But he feels obliged to speak to you personally just to get Miller off his back. We'll just go in, you answer his questions, and we'll be out of there in ten."

Still Bobby looked uneasy, but he conceded with a nod and followed Deakins into the outer office. Chief Harris' secretary looked up, and smiled warmly at the two of them.

"Hello, Captain Deakins. Detective Goren. Chief Harris asked me to send you straight through."

Deakins nodded, returning her smile, before leading the way into Chief Harris' private office.

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The first thing Deakins became aware of as he strode purposefully into the office was Chief Harris, sitting behind his desk and looking positively ill. The second thing he became aware of, a split second later, were the three figures positioned behind Harris. Two were armed with their weapons in plain sight and the other… The other was a slightly shrunken-looking individual clinging to an oxygen tank.

Deakins ripped his gun from its holster, at the same time placing himself squarely between Bobby and the three Centre operatives.

"Bobby, go," Deakins shouted. "Run, get out of here!"

Before Bobby had a chance to react, though, more operatives appeared in the doorway behind them, guns at the ready. All of a sudden, the two of them were surrounded, with nowhere to go.

"You should have come to us, Detective," Lyle said in amusement as he moved forward. Bobby barely heard him. His gaze was fixed on Raines who, in turn, was watching him with a cruel smirk.

"Hello again, Bobby," Raines rasped, and Bobby flinched visibly at the memories that voice provoked. Deakins looked at Harris, who still hadn't said a word.

"What have you done?" he asked hoarsely, still not lowering his gun.

"I'm sorry, Jim," Harris answered softly. "I really am. They didn't give me a choice."

"Put down the guns, gentlemen," Parker told them as she walked slowly around the side of the desk. "Cooperate, and no one has to get hurt."

"You are _not_ taking him," Deakins growled.

"Frankly, I don't see that you have a choice," Lyle said calmly. "As you can see, we outnumber you."

"Do you really think you'd get away with taking him right here?" Deakins demanded, grasping for time to think of a plan of action. "The building is wall to wall cops, from ground to roof. You'd never get out of here alive."

"We have options," Parker said calmly. "Put down the guns. I'd hate to have to shoot either of you."

Still neither Bobby nor Deakins moved, still holding their guns at the ready, prepared for a fight.

"For God's sake, both of you," Harris burst out, a hint of panic in his voice. "Is it worth risking your lives?"

"Chief Harris," Bobby said in a strained voice, "if I go with them, my life _is_ over. I might as well be dead."

"No need to be so melodramatic, Bobby," Lyle said conversationally. "You haven't even given us a chance to fill you in on what we have in the works."

Bobby's jaw tightened visibly, as did his grip on his gun.

"My name is Robert Goren. I am a detective with the NYPD. I am a free person, and you have no right to take me anywhere against my will!"

"All right," Parker snapped. "Enough of the warm fuzzy sentimentality."

She nodded, and one of the sweepers standing behind the two men stepped in and slammed the butt of his gun into the back of Deakins' head. The captain went down with a heavy thud, his gun flying from his grasp. Bobby swung around in near panic, trying to back away from the operatives, and from Lyle, Parker and Raines. There was nowhere for him to go, though, and he quickly found himself backed up to the wall, surrounded by operatives.

Walking over, Parker crouched down and pressed the barrel of her gun to Deakins' temple.

"Hey!" Harris burst out, standing up quickly. "You said no one would be hurt!"

"We lied," Parker replied flatly. She looked back at Bobby. "This is your last chance. I won't say it again. Put down the gun, and give yourself up, and I won't have to put a bullet in his head."

Bobby stood frozen, his gaze fixed on his captain. Deakins was not moving, and blood was already flowing down his neck and seeping into the carpet from the head wound he'd suffered. There was no way of knowing from just a look whether the injury was superficial, or more serious.

"You have a choice to make, Bobby," Raines rasped. "Give up, and we let him live. Fight, and he dies. Either way, you _are_ coming with us. It's entirely up to you whether he dies."

Slowly, overcome with distress, Bobby lowered his gun, and put up no protest when Lyle took his from his hands. If the threat had been aimed at him alone – fight or surrender, live or die – then he wouldn't have hesitated to fight. But he would not – _could not_ – take an action that would result in someone else's death, especially when that someone was his captain.

He was aware of someone coming up beside him, and winced at a sharp prick of pain in his neck, but he never took his eyes off Deakins, and the last thing he saw before his world faded to black was the image of his captain lying face down in a growing pool of his own blood.

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_tbc..._


	8. Aftershocks

Jarod was almost to One Police Plaza when he heard the distinct sound of rotor blades above the noise of the Manhattan midday traffic. He skidded to a halt and looked up just in time to see a jet black chopper lifting off from the roof of the police headquarters, hovering for a moment as it turned, and then flying away, rapidly disappearing from sight over the city skyline.

Distressed, Jarod looked back to the square that led into the tall building just in time to see Lyle and Parker coming out into the daylight, accompanied by a couple of sweepers.

No, Jarod thought, feeling sick. Please God, no…

A sleek black car pulled up, as though on cue, and Lyle opened the door for Parker in a gentlemanly manner that was most unlike him. She got in, throwing him an unimpressed look as she did so. Lyle grinned in response and was about to get in as well when he happened to glance up, and spotted Jarod.

For several seconds, the two men stared at each other, and Jarod mentally prepared himself to run. But then, to his disconcertment, Lyle's grin widened to near impossible proportions. He lifted his hand to his temple in a mock salute before getting into the car as well. Then, it pulled away from the curb and was gone.

Jarod stood frozen, his heart pounding painfully in his chest before panic galvanised him into action and he took off across the road, barely avoiding being hit, and ran into One Police Plaza.

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Deakins awoke to a shattering pain in his skull, aggravated by the cold compress that someone was holding to his head. He groaned and tried to pull away, but a firm pair of hands on his shoulders kept him from achieving that objective.

"Just stay still, Jim. You took a bad knock to the head. We've called for the paramedics to come and check you over."

For several long seconds, Deakins continued to lie on the floor, his dazed mind spinning as he struggled to remember what had happened. It came back in a rush, and this time when he tried to sit up, his anger and distress gave him the strength to break free of Harris' grip.

"You bastard…" he choked out, cringing as fresh pain flared through his skull at the sudden movement. When Harris reached out to try and help him, Deakins shrugged him off angrily. "You goddamn son of a bitch… You sold him out…"

"I'm sorry, Jim," Harris said again. "I told you, they didn't give me a choice. Please, try to understand…"

Deakins didn't even spare him a look as he got awkwardly to his feet, staggered a little and made a quick grab for the wall to steady himself.

"You sold out one of your own people. Don't you dare try to justify it to me!"

"Where do you think you're going, Jim?" Harris asked as Deakins took a couple of steps towards the door, stumbled and grabbed for the wall again.

"To get my detective back," Deakins mumbled. "There's still time…"

"Jim, they left via the helipad on the roof a couple of minutes ago. It's too late. He's gone."

Deakins stood frozen, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he leaned heavily against the wall, his stricken mind trying to come to grips with what had just happened. Finally, without saying another word to Harris, Deakins staggered from the office.

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Mike saw Deakins coming slowly around the corner, on his own, and knew instinctively what had happened. His heart sinking, he started to get to his feet, at the same time scanning the bullpen for Alex. Right at that moment, she appeared to be nowhere in sight, or within earshot.

"Carolyn, where's Alex?"

She glanced up at him briefly.

"Around the corner in Task Room 3, with King and Jackson. Why?"

"Because I think we've got a problem."

She took in his expression, and then looked around just in time see Deakins stumble and go crashing to the floor.

"Shit!" Mike exploded, and practically cleared his own desk in his rush to get to the captain. "Captain… oh god…"

"I'll call for a bus," Carolyn said quickly, but Deakins gave a slight shake of his head.

"Trap…" he mumbled as Mike helped him up into a sitting position, and carefully held his handkerchief to the still-bleeding head wound. "Was a trap… They were… were waiting… for us."

"Where's Bobby?" Mike asked, dreading the answer. Deakins looked sick.

"Gone… They… They took him…"

"Oh god, no," Carolyn whispered.

"What's going on?"

"Ah, crap," Mike hissed. A moment later, Alex broke through the throng of detectives who had gathered around their captain, and froze when her gaze came to rest on Deakins. She fell forward, dropping to her knees on the other side of him, anxiety written all over her face as she looked at the injury he'd suffered.

"How did this happen? Who did it?"

No one responded, and after several seconds, a new question occurred to her.

"Where is Bobby?"

"Alex," Deakins said softly, watching her through half-closed eyes as he struggled to maintain some equilibrium, "it was an ambush. They… They had Harris call me and ask for Bobby. When we walked in, they were already in there. There was nothing we could do."

Alex stared at him in horror.

"No… Please… No…"

"He's gone," Deakins whispered, tears spilling down his cheeks before he could stop them. "Bobby's gone. The bastards took him. I… I couldn't stop them. I'm sorry, Alex."

Alex stayed frozen, torn between wanting to cry, and wanting to scream and rant. She refused to let herself cry again, because tears would do no one any good. And screaming would be of even less benefit.

As she knelt there, she watched the guilt and grief play across Deakins' features. He was feeling guilty for letting Bobby be taken… and yet she knew without a doubt that it was not his fault. She didn't say anything right then, though. Right then, it was just a little too much for her to cope with.

"Has anyone called for the paramedics?" she demanded, trying to ground herself by focusing on something tangible.

"I'm okay," Deakins mumbled.

"Sure, Captain," Mike retorted. "That's why you're on the floor, bleeding from the head. What the hell did they do to you, anyway?"

Before Deakins had a chance to answer, Jarod came around the corner, and the look on his face told them that he already knew what had happened.

"He's gone, isn't he?" Jarod asked hoarsely. Without waiting for an answer, he hurried over and knelt down beside Alex, peering intently at Deakins' injury.

"We need to get you to the hospital. This could be fractured."

"I'm fine!" Deakins burst out, and then groaned as fresh pain speared through his head.

"No, you're not," Carolyn retorted. "I'm calling for a bus."

"We need to work out what to do about getting Bobby back," Deakins argued.

"There's no point rushing to decide anything now," Jarod said in a quiet, grim voice. "Unless anyone has an idea on how to intercept a chopper, mid-flight?"

"Not likely," Mike muttered. Jarod nodded.

"And if you did have the means to try that, they'd kill him before giving him up."

"So what happens now, then?" Alex asked softly, keeping her voice low to minimise the risk of it breaking on her. Jarod looked back at Deakins.

"First, we get your captain to the hospital, and see that he's treated. Then we sit and work through this situation thoroughly. And that includes getting a full account of what happened."

"Paramedics are on their way," Carolyn told them in a sombre voice.

"Did Harris really betray Goren?" someone else asked, and suddenly there were eight or nine hard stares focused on Deakins. He sighed softly, too exhausted and in too much pain to lie.

"Yes. He did. Harris sold him out. Why, I don't know."

"That lousy son of a bitch," another detective muttered.

Deakins looked around at them slowly. All of a sudden, he was finding it hard to keep his eyes open, and he knew it was not going to be long before he lost consciousness again.

"No retribution, not from anyone. I… I need everyone on deck and active… so we can figure out how best to help Goren."

A reluctant murmur of agreement swept through the group, and Deakins sighed faintly with relief. The last thing he needed was to have his entire squad go renegade, and get themselves suspended. He needed them to be focused, because the coming days were going to be some of the hardest they'd ever had.

Dimly, he was aware of Mike Logan speaking to him, but the words were a jumbled mess and made no sense to him at all. He looked through half-closed eyes at the men and women surrounding him, and his last thoughts before he slipped once more into the painlessness of sleep were a prayer they could affect a quick rescue, and that Bobby would soon be back where he belonged – safe with them.

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_The Centre_

Raines watched with sinister pleasure as Bobby was lifted carefully down from the chopper, strapped tightly to a stretcher, but still unconscious. His mind was already cranking over with thoughts of where he would begin with his many experiments, and he was anxious to get started.

"You do realise you're going to have to share him?"

Raines looked around to see Mr Parker standing there, watching him with a small, amused smirk. A scowl developed on his own face at the other man's words.

"What are you talking about? He's mine…"

"_And_ Sydney's," Parker reminded him calmly. "Sorry, Raines. The Director received strict instructions from the Triumvirate as soon as you sent word that the… acquisition had been successful. They want Sydney to have equal control."

"That isn't fair!" Raines complained. "I have plans. I can't afford to waste time by letting him…

Parker focused a hard look on Raines, effectively silencing him.

"And maybe the Triumvirate are anxious to ensure that you don't ruin this one in the same way you ruined Kyle… and Timmy. They've accepted that Jarod will never be reacquired." He paused, watching as medical staff moved in to run a brief check on the unconscious man. "We're expected to take extra care with this one, Raines. We aren't to lose him… physically, or otherwise. Understand?"

Raines scowled, but acquiesced.

"Perfectly."

Parker nodded, satisfied, and headed back into the Tower without another word. Raines watched him go, and then returned his attention to Bobby as Centre staff lifted him up off the concrete to carry him inside. A cruel smile lit up his face as his new test subject was carried past.

"Welcome home, Bobby," he rasped as the men carried him into the confines of the Centre.

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_Mt Sinai Hospital_

Deakins awoke to the low murmur of voices around him. He lay still and silent, trying to separate those voices from the dull pounding that filled his head. Slowly, painfully slowly, the pounding dimmed sufficiently that he could begin to make out some of the voices. Alex… Mike… Carolyn… Jarod…

And, abruptly, he remembered what happened. The Chief of Detective's betrayal… the ambush… Bobby's abduction…

With the memories came a burst of pain in his skull, and he groaned in response. The voices fell abruptly silent, and a moment later, he felt a hand descend onto his shoulder.

"Captain?" That was Carolyn. "How are you feeling?"

He grimaced and tried to open his eyes, but the assault of light on his senses was too much to deal with.

"Shoot me," he mumbled. "Shoot me now."

"It's not as bad as it feels, Captain Deakins," Jarod told him matter-of-factly. "There's no fracture. Basically, you just have a very nasty bump."

Deakins drew in a slow breath, and tried once more to open his eyes. He was marginally more successful, managing to force his eyes open halfway. They were all standing around watching him with concern… except Alex. She stood back from the bedside, her face a mask as she watched him.

Without having to ask, he knew what was wrong, aside from the obvious. He could sense her anger and pain vividly, because he felt it himself. Although, he had one more emotion to deal with than she, and that was a stark feeling of guilt.

He couldn't bring himself to hold it against her for being angry at him, not when he felt so directly responsible. He had promised to keep Bobby safe and protected from those monsters at the Centre, and he had failed; and never had any of his failures been felt so acutely by so many.

"This wasn't your fault, Captain," Mike said quietly, his words causing Deakins to start a little. He hadn't realised Mike could be quite so perceptive. All the same, though, he couldn't stem the grief that washed over him.

"No?" he asked hoarsely. "Then whose fault is it? I warned everyone against attempts to lure Bobby away from the squad's protection, and then I went and fell for one of the Centre's tricks myself. There's no excuse."

"It's pointless to lay blame," Carolyn insisted. "On yourself, or anyone else. The point now is that Bobby is gone, and we have to figure out how to get him back. That has to be our priority now, Captain."

Deakins didn't respond to her words, but rather looked past her to where Alex stood. He wasn't after any sort of absolution or forgiveness from her. In fact, he wasn't entirely sure what he was looking for, but he couldn't make any pledges until she spoke.

"Why don't we step outside for a minute, boys?" Carolyn murmured, ushering a puzzled Mike and Jarod out of the cubicle, and leaving Deakins and Alex alone.

"What?" Alex asked softly, once they were gone. "What do you want from me? Do you want me to tell you I forgive you? Like you said, you warned everyone else, and then fell for it yourself."

"I'm not asking your forgiveness, Alex," he answered softly, struggling to concentrate through the dull ache in his head. "I'm asking if you can still bring yourself to trust me."

She looked away, and Deakins felt his heart sink. He couldn't blame her, but it hurt nonetheless, to think that her trust in him had been so severely damaged.

"Mike was right," she said suddenly, and Deakins looked back at her questioningly.

"About what?"

"It's not your fault. How were you to know they had their claws hooked into the Chief of Detectives? None of us would have questioned it." She raised her eyes to him again slowly. "But we have to get him back, Captain. Somehow, we have to get him out of there, fast."

Deakins nodded, feeling a surge of relief that she still trusted him. He reached out and took her hand gently in his own, and when he spoke it was with fresh confidence in his tired voice.

"We will, Alex. One way or another, we will get him out. And then, we'll make those bastards rue the day they decided to go after him."

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"So what now?" Mike asked when, an hour later, Deakins had told them everything he could remember of the ambush. Jarod looked grim.

"I have an idea, but it's going to take some planning. And, it may take some time."

"No," Alex said in a strained voice. "No, there's no time. We have to get him out, now."

"It's not as easy as that," Jarod said.

"But you escaped from there," Mike pointed out. "You said it yourself."

"For starters," Jarod said firmly, "I need to confirm that they have actually taken him to Blue Cove, and not somewhere else. Getting that information may take time in itself. And then, once I've got that confirmation, it won't be just a matter of slipping in and out. They're going to have him under very close watch. It's not going to be easy to rescue him."

"So, what are you saying?" Mike growled. "We just have to sit on our asses and wait? For how long?"

Jarod looked around at each of them with visible regret. He hated having to say it, but there was no point sugar-coating it for them.

"I know some people who will be willing to help, but it may take some time to track them down. You're going to have to trust me now. I have no intention of abandoning Bobby. I want to get him out as much as you all do, but we have to go about it carefully. They will kill him before they let him go, and above all else we want to avoid that happening."

"How long do you think it might take you to prepare for a rescue?" Deakins asked quietly. Jarod was silent for nearly a minute before answering.

"Three… maybe four months."

A strange, choking sob escaped Alex's throat and, in distress, she fled the cubicle. Throwing Jarod an angry glare, Carolyn hurried after her.

"Three or four months," Mike said coolly. "That's the best estimate you can offer?"

"That's if there are no setbacks," Jarod answered. "In truth, it could be six months or more before we're ready to attempt a rescue." He paused, and then added softly, "I know what sort of damage could be done in that time. Believe me, I know. But I would rather rescue him alive six months down the track and have a chance to reverse any damage done to him by Raines, rather than go in too soon, and find we have to bury him. To me, it isn't worth the risk. Is it worth it to you?"

Mike looked away, distraught.

"No," he admitted softly. Jarod nodded.

"Okay. I have to go. I have people to try and contact. I'll be in touch with you, though, to let you know what's happening. I promise."

"And what do we do in the meantime?" Deakins asked.

"Do your best to go about business as normal," Jarod encouraged them. Deakins smiled a very bitter smile.

"Easier said than done, Jarod."

"I know," Jarod murmured. "And I'm sorry I don't have more to offer you right now. But if you want Bobby back alive, you need to be willing to do this my way."

Deakins nodded.

"It's all right, Jarod. We understand. Just be sure that you do keep in touch. And for God's sake, be careful. They're going to be keeping an eye out for you, if only to keep you from getting any information about Bobby."

"I will," Jarod promised. "I'll be in touch."

And then he was gone.

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Mike found Alex and Carolyn just around the corner from the waiting room. Alex was sobbing softly into Carolyn's shoulder, while Carolyn did her best to comfort her.

"He's gone?" Carolyn asked softly when Mike approached and sat down on the other side of Alex.

"Yeah," Mike confirmed. "He promised to stay in contact, and keep us up to date."

"And you believe that?"

Mike paused, taking a moment to consider that. Finally, he nodded.

"Yes. I believe it. I don't believe he'd just give up and leave Bobby in the hands of those psychopaths. Alex…?"

"I'm sorry," she whispered, drawing back from Carolyn and rubbing fiercely at her eyes. Mike reached out and stroked her hair lightly, soothingly, in a tender gesture.

"Don't be. You've got every right to want to cry. Don't be ashamed of that."

"It's just, when he said it might be three or four months… It was just too much to take. I can't stomach the thought of Bobby being in that place… with those people… for that long, and having God only knows what done to him."

"I know," Mike murmured. "I hate it, too. But we don't have a choice. Deakins is the only one with any clue where this place is, and Jarod was right about one thing. If we go about this the wrong way, it might just get Bobby killed."

Alex looked at him miserably.

"Mike, you heard what Bobby said this morning. He'd rather be dead than be back in the Centre's control. If we don't get him out of there soon, he might just be dead anyway… by his own hand."

"You really think he'd go to the extreme of killing himself?" Carolyn wondered. Alex stared bleakly at the floor.

"If he can't see any other way out? Yes, I really think he'd do it."

"But he has to know that we'd be searching for a way to get him out," Mike said, frowning. "He must know that we wouldn't just quit on him? That _you_ wouldn't quit on him?"

A bitter laugh escaped Alex's lips.

"You don't know Bobby's abandonment issues, Mike. I give him two months, tops, before they'll be able to convince him that no one's coming for him. Maybe another month after that to convince him we're all doing our best to forget about him, and get on with our lives. After that, who knows?"

"Well," Mike said with a heavy sigh, "I guess we're going to have to rely on them to keep him from doing anything like that, aren't we?"

Alex looked away as fresh tears filled her eyes.

"I don't know if _I_ can last four months."

Leaning over, Mike wrapped her up in his arms and hugged her tightly.

"Yes, you can, Alex. For Bobby's sake, we all can."

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_The following evening  
__Blue Cove, Delaware_

For the longest while, Jarod sat on the bench, watching the dark, menacing building that served as the Centre's base of operations. He was in a dangerous position here, and he knew it. Just about everyone in the Centre knew his face, and if just one of them spotted him, then he was done. He had to see, though. He had to take the chance, and try to find out whether this really was where Bobby had been taken.

His contact was late, but that didn't concern him. This particular individual didn't operate according to anyone's schedule. He just had to be patient, and wait for him to appear.

And appear he did, just after dusk had finally fallen. There was a rustling in the bushes off to his right, and then a figure emerged and crawled onto the bench beside Jarod.

"Angelo," Jarod murmured in greeting, hugging the other man warmly. It took him a moment to realise Angelo was crying.

"Talk to me," Jarod encouraged him gently. "Tell me what you can."

"Bobby…" Angelo whimpered, and pointed towards the building.

"He's in there?" Jarod asked, and Angelo nodded his shaggy head.

"Sydney… and Mr Raines…"

Jarod wasn't sure whether to be relieved, or not.

"They've given him to Sydney as well as Raines?"

Again, Angelo nodded.

"To Sydney… to look after… to Raines… to experiment."

Jarod felt his stomach crawl. So Bobby had been placed in Sydney's control in a superficial attempt to keep him physically and mentally safe, but Raines still had the freedom to conduct his monstrous experiments on him.

"Jarod rescue?" Angelo asked, and Jarod sighed.

"Not yet, Angelo. Soon, though. We'll rescue him soon. Can you do something for me? Do your best to look after Bobby? And tell Sydney about anything that Mr Raines tries to do to him in secret. Can you do that?"

Angelo nodded and, hugging Jarod one last time, he slipped away back through the bushes. Jarod watched him go before returning his attention to the Centre.

"Hang in there, Bobby," he whispered. "Whatever you do, don't give up. We'll come for you, I promise."

With a last look at the building that was soon likely to become Bobby's own personal hell, Jarod rose up and vanished in the darkness.

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_tbc..._


	9. Bitter Homecomings

_A/N: God help me, I'm descending into shippiness. I swore this would never happen, but then again, I also swore I would never waste money on a laptop computer. I've _**got**_ to stop saying never.  
__B/A shippiness implied. Whether anything comes of it later in the story? We'll just have to wait and see what mood the muse is in._

_-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

_The Centre  
__Blue Cove, Delaware  
__The evening of the abduction_

Bobby awoke to silence. For a little while, he took comfort in that silence, and let his mind rest, not thinking of anyone or anything. He rested, deciding he could allow himself a few precious minutes of unawareness, paying no attention to anything around him. Just a few minutes…

Slowly, inevitably, awareness began to filter back in. And with it, came the realisation that his wrists were held with thick restraints, as were his ankles. With new awareness, came the dull throb of a sedative-induced headache, and the grim understanding that he was in a whole world of trouble.

Bobby opened his eyes slowly, cringing a little at the bright lights that assaulted his senses. He was surrounded by whiteness, but instinct warned him that it was no hospital that he was in. As he was still struggling to get his bearings, Bobby heard a voice speak from somewhere behind him.

"Hello, Dr Raines? Yes, he's awake."

Bobby felt a full-blown panic attack threaten to engulf him as the true gravity of his situation suddenly hit, and it was with difficulty that he kept his senses from just shutting down. He was back in the Centre, he thought numbly, and the memories of what had happened in Chief Harris' office gradually began to filter back to him.

The last thing he clearly remembered was seeing Captain Deakins on the floor, bleeding from the head. He could only hope and pray it hadn't been a serious injury, and that Harris would have been quick in summoning medical help for him after Raines and his cronies had taken him away. He also hoped fervently that Deakins wouldn't blame himself for what had happened, or that the others wouldn't blame him for it. None of them had foreseen a betrayal from within their own ranks. There was no way to have guessed that might happen.

He almost smiled at the thought of what Alex and Mike, in particular, might do to Harris when they found out. Alex would probably want to shoot him. Hopefully, though, they wouldn't do anything to get themselves suspended. He didn't want that at all.

A face suddenly appeared above his own, causing his heartbeat to quicken just briefly. He assumed from her uniform that she was a nurse, and his first instinct was to beg her to let him go. But the placid, uncaring expression on her face as she went about checking his blood pressure and other vitals warned him that to do so would be a waste of breath. That, and a deeper sense of pride wouldn't allow him to beg.

He made a vow to himself right then, even as the woman's hands roughly and painfully extracted an IV needle from his arm, that no matter what was done to him, he would never beg, not for anything. No matter what, he would hold on to at least a shred of his humanity… and his identity.

Footsteps on the floor alerted him to someone else's presence. Bobby sucked in a sharp breath in an effort to stay calm. He wasn't sure how he was going to cope with facing the psychotic Dr Raines again, but damned if he would let the bastard see his terror.

He shut his eyes, making a concerted effort to keep his breathing even, and braced himself for the inevitable.

"It's all right, Bobby. You can open your eyes."

Bobby's breath caught in his throat. That was not Raines' voice. He knew that voice, and it belonged to someone who had always provided him with a refuge from Raines' sadism. Slowly, he looked up to find himself staring at a familiar, not unkind face.

"Sydney," Bobby whispered hoarsely. His throat was raw and painful from the effect of the sedatives, causing him to cringe and cough.

"Nurse, get some water," Sydney called out, and then looked back to Bobby in concern. "How are you feeling?"

"Great," Bobby muttered bitterly. "Couldn't be better."

"I am sorry," Sydney apologised softly. "I truly am. I'd hoped that Jarod might have been able to prevent this from happening."

Bobby looked away, knowing that if he spoke right then, it would be thoughtless words of anger. He didn't want to take that anger out on Sydney, not when he knew Sydney had tried to keep the Centre from capturing him. No, he wanted to save it all for a certain bald-headed freak with an oxygen tank.

"There's some water here for you," Sydney told him. "If I undo the restraints, can I have your word you won't try anything foolish?"

Bobby looked back at him, his expression hard.

"You mean like trying to escape?"

"Bobby, please," Sydney begged him. "You must trust me now. If you tried to run, you wouldn't even get as far as the door. You can't see them, but there are no less than eight guards in this room alone, and each one is armed."

"So they'd shoot me? At least I'd be free of this nightmare."

Sydney felt disturbed at the suggestion that Bobby might be willing to put himself in a position where he knew he might be killed.

"They wouldn't be aiming to kill you," he said softly.

Even as Sydney watched, Bobby literally deflated, and the stoic look on his face dissolved into one of real misery.

"I won't do anything," he said finally, his voice dull with defeat. Relieved, Sydney set about undoing the restraints, allowing Bobby to sit up.

"Here," Sydney murmured, handing him the water. "Drink slowly. You don't want to make yourself sick."

Bobby took a few sips, relishing the cool relief that the water brought, before looking back at Sydney.

"How long was I out?"

"Approximately twelve hours."

"Do… Do you know if my captain is all right? He was hit pretty hard by one of Raines' goons."

"He's all right, Bobby," Sydney assured him. "There was no real damage done. Just a nasty concussion. I got the report from Mt Sinai Hospital, where the paramedics took him. I thought you'd like to know."

"Thankyou," Bobby mumbled, feeling more than a little resentful that he would feel that he owed thanks for anything.

"What are you doing here?"

Bobby stiffened visibly at the new voice that cut through the quiet. Sydney, however, turned to face Raines with absolute calm.

"I'm looking after the wellbeing of my charge, just as the Director personally requested I do."

Raines glared at him.

"He's _my_ pretender, Sydney. I don't want you interfering with him."

Sydney didn't flinch.

"If you have a problem, I suggest you take it up with the Director. But you should be aware that she is acting on direct orders from the Triumvirate. But I believe you already knew that, didn't you, Raines? As per orders from the Triumvirate, Bobby will be in my care exclusively until he readjusts to being here. You will have access to him only when _I_ say he's ready. If it takes one month, or six, or more, then that's how it will be."

Raines' expression turned distinctly dangerous.

"I won't tolerate you interfering in my programs, Sydney. I suggest you tread very, _very_ carefully."

"I always do," Sydney murmured as Raines walked away.

"I suppose you want me to thank you," Bobby said once Raines was gone. Sydney turned back to him.

"No, Bobby. I expect you to be honest, with me as well as yourself. Don't feel that you have to hide your anger."

He looked away again. He'd never liked shrinks very much, and to be sitting here getting psychoanalysed by a man who was, effectively, his captor, was almost too much to stomach.

"What happens now?" he asked, trying hard to keep his voice level.

"Once we've cleared you physically, you'll be escorted to your quarters."

"You mean that dingy little prison cell that I was locked inside of every night when I was a kid?"

Sydney smiled faintly.

"I think we can do a little better than that for you. I think you'll find you'll be quite comfortable in the room we've prepared for you."

"I will _never_ be comfortable in this place," Bobby said in a soft, intense voice. "Never, Sydney. And I'll never stop looking for a way out."

"I understand," Sydney conceded. "But I need you to understand, Bobby. The Centre lost Jarod. They have no intention of losing you. For your own sake, I hope you'll cooperate."

"Or what?" Bobby asked. "You'll lock me up? Oh, wait. You already have."

"Raines will resort to any means he thinks will help to force you into complying, Bobby. From physical punishment, to threatening your loved ones. Just because you're here now, don't make the mistake of believing they're now safe."

"And what about you?" Bobby asked. "Would you use those methods? Would you threaten my… my loved ones?"

"No, Bobby," Sydney assured him. "I don't operate like that. But you will be expected to cooperate with me and complete the simulations that Jarod never finished. If you do that, I may be able to negotiate privileges for you."

"Privileges? What sort of privileges?"

"Well, being able to phone your mother at Carmel Ridge, for one."

Bobby drew in a long, steadying breath. Sydney had just nailed it for him. Of all the things he could have suggested, that was perhaps the one thing that was most likely to gain his cooperation.

"How long?" he asked softly, trying to ignore the nauseous feeling in his gut. "How long would I have to wait before I could do that?"

"If you cooperate immediately? I could try to obtain permission for you to do that by the end of the week."

Bobby's expression changed just fractionally as he stared at Sydney.

"Don't make false promises to me, Sydney. I'm not a child anymore. If you're lying just to get me to do what you want…"

"I'm not lying to you, Bobby. Give me your full cooperation for this first week and if, by the end of it, you still haven't been allowed to phone your mother, then you can cease doing the simulations, and I promise that neither you nor anyone else will suffer retribution for it. All right?"

For nearly a minute, Bobby didn't reply. He stared at Sydney piercingly, so much so that the psychiatrist began to physically sweat under the intensity of his charge's gaze. Finally, Bobby conceded with a reluctant nod, although he couldn't keep from feeling that he was selling himself out in the worst possible way.

"All right."

_-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

When Alex left One Police Plaza that night, she had every intention of simply going straight home, curling up in bed and crying herself to sleep. She'd had to threaten physical violence against all the do-gooders in the squad – Deakins included – who were reluctant to let her go off on her own, but finally they'd conceded. When she eventually pulled into the curb, though, she quickly discovered that rather than going to her own home, she had gone to her parents' home instead.

Alex sat in the SUV for a long time, debating whether to give in to her desire for the comforting sanctuary of her parents' home, or whether to flee and go home to nurse her grief in solitude. In the end, though, the decision was taken out of her hands when the front door of the house was flung open and a small figure came running down the path towards the vehicle.

"Aunty! Aunty!"

She had to smile, despite her heartache. Getting out, she caught Nathan up in her arm and hugged him fiercely.

"Hey, baby boy," she murmured, taking what small comfort she could in holding the little boy to her. Nathan snuggled in against her, wrapping his little arms around her neck and hugging her tightly.

"Alex?"

It was her sister, and she looked up reluctantly.

"Hi, Sarah."

"I told Mom and Dad you'd be here. They thought for sure you weren't gonna show. Everyone else is already here."

Confusion filled Alex's face, mixed with alarm. She was not of a mind to be facing up to her rowdy clan. Not tonight, not after everything that had already happened that day.

"Sarah, I'm not really up to dealing with lots of people tonight. I… I might just go…"

"Oh, no you don't," Sarah said with a laugh, catching Alex by the shoulders and propelling her into the house.

_-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

Sure enough, it seemed nearly the entire immediate Eames clan was present. There was her sister and her family, her two brothers and their families, her parents, her two uncles and three aunts. The house was bursting with people, and noise. Starting to feel distinctly ill, Alex made her way through the crowd of people and into the kitchen, where her aunts were gossiping with her mother.

"Look who's here, Mom!" Sarah crowed, and Alex was suddenly besieged by three clucky aunts, all of whom wanted to hug her and kiss her cheek. By the time they let her loose, Alex was feeling decidedly faint.

"I was starting to think you weren't coming, Lexie. Uncle Marty would have been dreadfully upset if you missed his birthday."

Alex groaned softly. Of course. Her uncle's birthday. She wondered dimly how long she would have to stay before discreetly excusing herself.

"Mom, I… I just came to wish him happy birthday, and go."

Helen Eames raised an eyebrow at her.

"Go? Honey, we haven't even started yet. Why don't you grab yourself a beer, and go join the boys? Oh, and what about Bobby? You did bring him along, didn't you? You know how much Marty, Frank and your father love talking to him."

After hours of struggling to keep her composure, that proved to be more than Alex could cope with. She shuddered, giving a choked sob, before her knees buckled beneath her and she collapsed to the linoleum floor.

"Alex?" Helen cried out in alarm, abandoning the meat she'd been busy garnishing to kneel down beside her stricken daughter. "Sarah, go and get your father, quickly."

John Eames came quickly, not hesitating to crouch down beside his oldest daughter.

"Lexie, honey, what is it?"

"B… Bobby…" Alex choked out between sobs. John felt a chill go through him.

"What's happened to him? Was he shot?"

"No…" Alex whispered. "K… Kidnapped…"

John blinked. If it weren't for the fact that Alex was in a crumpled heap on the kitchen floor, crying helplessly, he would have thought it was a joke. The idea that someone… _anyone_… could have kidnapped her giant of a partner was almost too ludicrous to believe.

"What do you mean, kidnapped?" he asked, willing himself not to laugh. Surely it was just a joke? Any second now, Alex would look up, grinning, and say she was just kidding…?

"An agency c… called the Centre…" she choked out. "They ambushed him… They used the Chief of Police to trap him… and now… he's gone! My partner's gone, and I might never see him again!"

She dissolved into a fresh flood of tears, all the pent-up emotion of the last two days finally finding an outlet. John hugged her tightly, looking around at the family who were crowding into the kitchen, trying to find out what had happened.

"John?" Frank Eames asked in confusion. "What's going on?"

"It's Bobby Goren," John said quietly. "Alex said he was ambushed today, and abducted."

"Someone kidnapped Bobby?" Alex's younger brother Philip asked incredulously. "You've gotta be kidding! The guy's a walking mountain!"

"Philip, hush," Helen growled.

"C'mon, honey," John murmured, getting up and urging Alex up as well. "Come into the family room, and tell us just what happened."

_-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

A half hour later, Alex had given her family an outline of the events of the past two days, ending with Bobby's abduction from within One Police Plaza earlier that day. By the time she was done talking, a sombre silence had descended.

"This guy, Jarod," Philip said finally. "You trust him to do what he said he would? You trust him to come back?"

"We don't have any other option," Alex said bitterly. "We don't even know where this place is. We looked on every map we could lay our hands on, and the only evidence we have that a place called Blue Cove even exists in Delaware is Captain Deakins' memories from when he served there as a rookie. But he doesn't remember how to get there, now."

"Under normal circumstances I wouldn't make an offer like this," Marty said quietly, "but this is anything but normal. I know some men who owe me favours… Men with a lot of influence. If you think it'll help, Alex… Well, I'm willing to cash in those favours if it'll help Bobby."

Alex sighed softly.

"I appreciate the offer, Uncle Marty, but this agency… They just don't seem to answer to the same hierarchy as everyone else. Maybe, once we've gotten Bobby out of there, then maybe I might come back to you for that... to give him some protection... but until then, I think Jarod was right about one thing in particular. We have to be careful how we go about this, or they might just send him back to us in a body bag."

Her voice cracked as she spoke the words, finally accepting the grim reality of them in her own mind. A pair of comforting arms slipped around her shoulders and pulled her in close as the tears threatened once more.

"I just want him back!" she choked out. "I want him back, safe! How can they do this? What right have they got? It's not fair!"

"No," John murmured as he hugged his daughter. "It isn't fair. I just wish there was something practical we could do to help. I'm so sorry, Lexie."

"I won't have another partner," Alex vowed in a trembling voice. "I'll work alone. I won't have any partner but Bobby. I won't."

She began to cry again in earnest, clinging to her father in search of a comfort that she knew she was not going to find.

_-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

Deakins caught a taxi home, rather than risk driving with a concussion. It had been a hell of a fight to get the hospital to discharge him, but he'd eventually succeeded, and had returned to One Police Plaza for the remainder of the afternoon. There, he and the rest of the squad made only a cursory show of working. In reality, they were all too distraught to concentrate.

Carolyn had left first, pausing only long enough to hug Alex and offer a few words of comfort. Alex decided to leave soon after, and no amount of protests on either his or Mike's part could convince her to accept an escort. In the end, she'd threatened bodily harm on them both before they finally conceded and let her go.

Then, when Deakins finally decided it was time to head off, he discovered Mike still at his desk, staring at the same page of paperwork that he'd been looking at for the last two and a half hours.

A gentle suggestion that maybe it was time to go home had been met with a rough shake of his head, and a mumbled word or two about hanging around for a while longer. In no mood for an argument, Deakins had decided to let him be and headed off in tired silence.

Now, he was home again, but there was little comfort in that. He was coming home to a cold, empty house, for his wife and daughters would not be home for another three days. Bypassing the kitchen, despite the persistent growl in his stomach, he headed straight for his study, searching for a sanctuary that he knew in his gut he wasn't going to find.

Deakins dropped into the large armchair, his vision glazing over slightly as he allowed himself to be caught up in his memories. Memories of the last two days… and his now sketchy memories of that incident in Blue Cove so long ago now, when he'd helped Catherine Parker smuggle a frightened twelve year old boy away from the Centre in the middle of the night.

Slowly, his gaze focused on a framed photo that sat on his desk, in amongst the photos of his family. It was a shot of Bobby, Alex, Mike and Carolyn, taken at the previous year's Christmas party. All four detectives had been more than a little drunk by the time the designated photographer got around to them, resulting in a very candid shot that, at some point, each of the four had approached him about, asking for it to be destroyed. He'd assured them that it had been, deciding to keep quiet about the fact that he'd obtained the negative from the photographer and had the photo reprinted and framed, to sit on the desk in his private study at home.

A small smile flickered across Deakins' face as he picked up the picture for a closer look. Mike had his arms wrapped around Carolyn's waist and she, for once, didn't appear to be putting up a fight over it. The two detectives looked very comfortable together, Deakins mused. What had really endeared the photo to him, though, was the image of Bobby and Alex. Like with Mike and Carolyn, Bobby had his arms around Alex, but there was far less exuberance in their embrace than there appeared to be with their colleagues.

Alex was leaning in against Bobby, a look of pure contentment on her face, while Bobby looked down at his diminutive partner with a gentle, loving smile.

Deakins' smile faded.

This photo was, without a doubt, the clearest evidence he had of Bobby and Alex's feelings for one another. Whether they were yet to act on it, or whether they had already taken that next step, he didn't know and he didn't want to know. What he _did _know was that the next few months – or however long it took Jarod to make his plans – were going to be harsh on all of them, but especially on Alex.

It was going to be the hardest thing he'd ever done, to try and hold his team together while facing the uncertainty of Bobby's fate. The truth was, he didn't even know where to start.

He set the photo back down and headed out of the study, and upstairs to his bedroom. He had no stomach for food now. All he wanted was to be able to sleep and, at least for a little while, forget about the misery that was biting at his heels.

He collapsed on his bed without bothering to shed any of his clothes, pressing his face into his pillow.

"I'm sorry, Bobby," he whispered, shutting his eyes tightly in a pointless effort to stop the tears. "I am so sorry…"

And he continued to lie there, still and silent but for the occasional shuddering sob that escaped him. Sleep was a long time in coming, and when it eventually did come, there was nothing restful about it.

_-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

_tbc..._


	10. The Beginning of the Nightmare

_The Centre,  
__Blue Cove, Delaware  
__The first day._

For a long while, Bobby sat at the desk, not moving or speaking. His eyes scanned the multitude of pictures scattered over the desktop, but he made no attempt to pick any of them up. To pick one up would have would have meant giving in, and he wasn't ready to do that. Not yet.

And so he continued to just sit there, while the minutes stretched into hours. And all the while he was acutely aware of the cameras that were constantly watching him, recording every move he made and every word he spoke.

"What is the matter, Bobby?" Sydney asked, a hint of impatience in his voice. It was nearing the three hour mark now, and still Bobby was refusing to do as he'd been asked.

"I can't," Bobby said softly.

"Yes, you can," Sydney insisted. "It's a simple exercise. You pick a picture, and become the person. You enjoyed doing this when you were a boy."

"I'm not a boy anymore, Sydney."

"Just try to focus, Bobby."

Bobby hesitated, scanning the photos once more before finally reaching towards one. He stayed his hand just before touching it, though.

"What will this cost me, Sydney?"

Sydney walked slowly around into Bobby's line of sight.

"What do you mean?"

"Doing this exercise. What will it cost me?"

Sydney was visibly confused.

"I'm sorry, Bobby. I don't understand what you mean."

Bobby gestured to all the pictures in frustration.

"I do this, like you want me to. I become someone whose picture is on this table… but I lose something of myself in the process. But, that's the whole point, isn't it? Bit by bit, you chip away at me… at my identity… until there's nothing left, except what the Centre wants me to be. A pretender… someone with no identity of my own… just whatever identity the Centre wants me to have, according to who's paid the most for it."

Sydney smiled grimly.

"You are as perceptive as ever."

Bobby raised an eyebrow at him.

"You're not even going to try and argue?"

"As you already pointed out, you're no longer a child. Lying to you would be pointless and foolish. I need you to trust me, and you won't give that to me if I'm not honest with you. The truth is that retaining your own identity will be up to you. You have to find some way to keep safe the core of your own identity. No one else here will be able to help you to do that, not even me. It will be up to you, and you alone."

Bobby looked back at the picture that his hand hovered over, but still he held back from picking it up.

"If you don't cooperate," Sydney reminded him with just a hint of impatience, "then I won't be able to negotiate those phone calls for you."

Slowly, Bobby withdrew his hand, and focused a piercing stare at Sydney.

"I'm not a child that can be lied to, Sydney. Not anymore. I know damn well that they're not going to let me call my mother. Letting me do that would only help me to preserve my sense of identity, and they don't want that."

"Bobby…"

"Tell me, Sydney, and be honest, if you can. How many exercises… How many simulations would you have put me through before you finally told me the truth?"

Sydney didn't move or speak and, fleetingly, the thought flew through his mind, '_this is a mistake_'. Finally, he tried a new tact.

"Bobby, please, listen to me. You're being watched right now. They expect you to cooperate. If you don't…"

"What?" Bobby snarled, suddenly furious. "They'll punish me? Threaten me? Well, you know what, Sydney? To hell with that! I'm not doing this. Not any of it!"

In an explosive fit of rage, Bobby overturned the table, scattering pictures all over the floor. The response to his outburst was swift, and violent. Centre guards appeared literally out of nowhere, eight in all, and they swarmed over Bobby like a pack of wolves.

"No, don't hurt him!" Sydney shouted but, when he tried to intervene, one of the men stepped in and held him back, while the others dealt out their own brand of punishment to the recalcitrant Pretender-in-training.

While four of the guards quickly secured Bobby by the arms, another laid into him with his fists, delivering blow after blow to his midsection and abdomen.

One guard kicked his legs from behind, forcing his knees to buckle painfully beneath him. Then, blows were rained down on his face, leaving him bruised, bloody and swollen.

When the guards finally released him from their grip, all Bobby could do was slump to the floor in a bloodied heap, semi-conscious and unresponsive.

"I told you he was not to be harmed!" Sydney exploded furiously as he finally broke away from the guard who had been holding him back. He hurried over to Bobby's side, crouching down to look him over anxiously.

"Sorry, Doctor," one of the men answered in a tone that suggested he wasn't sorry at all. "We were told to subdue him by any means necessary if he looked like getting violent. It was for your own protection."

Sydney let his breath out in an angry rush. He had no doubt who was behind _that_ order.

"Get a stretcher," he demanded angrily. "Take him to the hospital wing."

But none of the men attempted to move. Sydney looked up at them darkly.

"Well?"

"Mr Raines instructed us to lock him in solitary if he became uncooperative."

Sydney felt a fresh flash of anger.

"Mr Raines is not in charge of Bobby. _I_ am. You will do as _I_ say, and I'm ordering you to take him to the hospital wing. Is that understood? Or do I have to go to the Director?"

The guard looked resentful, but compliant.

"We'll take him to the hospital wing."

Sydney nodded, only slightly pacified.

"See that you do."

* * *

"Having problems with the new kid?" Miss Parker asked coolly when Sydney returned to his office.

"He refuses to cooperate," Sydney admitted, "even in undertaking very basic exercises. If he continues to refuse to cooperate, then it's entirely possible that the Director will just hand him over to Raines. If that happens, I'll no longer be able to guarantee his safety."

"And where is he now?"

Sydney grimaced.

"I instructed him to be delivered to the hospital wing. Raines' men beat him to a pulp when he overturned a table."

Parker shook her head incredulously.

"Nice. That will really encourage him to cooperate, won't it?"

"This was a mistake," Sydney murmured. "We should never have brought him back here. Jarod is one prospect, but Bobby was not raised here, not like Jarod was. He was here for five years, and that was all. He has a life… and a powerfully independent nature that is not going to be easily suppressed."

Parker paused, and then spoke softly.

"You know we didn't have a choice, Sydney. Once the decision was made, it was either bring him in, or kill him. At least he has a chance to survive in here."

Sydney laughed bitterly.

"This is no life to him, Parker. He'd rather die than give the powers that be what they want. I'd be half inclined to say that he knew exactly what he was doing when he overturned that table. He knew the guards would attack him like that."

Parker regarded Sydney thoughtfully.

"Let me talk to him. Perhaps I can convince him to cooperate with you."

Her offer was met with a raised eyebrow.

"No offence, Parker, but what makes you think he'll listen to you?"

She smiled, then; not her usual predator's smile, but a softer version that reminded Sydney starkly of her mother.

"Call it women's intuition. I think he'll listen."

* * *

Parker wasn't sure whether to be surprised or not to walk into the hospital wing to find Bobby was not there. She stood there for a long moment, observing the row of empty beds, before turning to the nurse on duty.

"Where is Bobby?"

The nurse looked up at her blankly.

"Who?"

"The new Pretender. Sydney gave orders for him to be brought to the hospital wing after Mr Raines' men had… dealt with him. Where is he?"

"Oh… He's not here."

Parker's expression turned dangerous, and she walked over to the desk and leaned over it to stare piercingly down at the nurse.

"I can see that," she said in a low, impatient tone. "Where is he?"

"He was brought here to begin with, and then Mr Raines came. He waited while I looked him over to make sure he wasn't seriously injured…"

"And?"

"And then he had him taken out of here, to be locked up in solitary confinement."

Parker straightened up, struggling to control her anger. Bobby had barely been back in the Centre for twenty-four hours, and already Raines was making his life hell. With a last, scathing look at the nurse, she strode from the hospital wing.

* * *

Bitter experience had taught Parker that there were very few people she could rely on in life. Ultimately, the people she trusted most were Sydney, her assigned technical and computer genius, Broots and, perversely, Jarod. There had been a time when, if she had been asked to list the people that she trusted, her father would have been at the top of that list, but that had not been the case now for a long time. As dearly as she loved her father, she had long come to accept that, like so many people in the Centre, he had his own agenda and that he could not always be trusted to do the right thing.

And so, after learning that Sydney had been circumvented by Raines, Parker headed straight to the solitary ward, ready for a fight. She was not surprised to be confronted by no less than four cleaners, all loyal to Raines, standing guard on one of the doors.

"This is kind of overkill, isn't it, boys?" she asked smoothly. "Four of you to guard a locked door?"

"Mr Raines warned us not to take any chances," one of the men answered tonelessly.

"Please," Parker retorted. "He's not going anywhere. Now open the door and let me in."

"You do understand the concept of solitary confinement, don't you?"

She glared at the man who had dared ask such an idiot question.

"You do understand that the Director will happily sign an order transferring every single one of you to the Centre's base in the Arctic when she finds out that you've deliberately gone against Sydney's instructions, when she personally placed Bobby in Sydney's care at the request of the Triumvirate?"

To say that Parker didn't enjoy the curious shade of pale that each of the four men turned would have been a blatant lie. She waited for a moment, allowing her words to sink in before pointing to the door.

"Now, unlock it. I'm taking him out of there, and back to his own room."

Reluctantly, one of the men unlocked the door, and they stepped aside to let Parker in.

* * *

Bobby sat slumped in the corner of the small room, nursing his injuries in miserable silence. Most of it was just bruises, but he was fairly sure that his right shoulder had been dislocated when Raines' men jumped him. The constant burning pain was enough to tell him that it had been. But, instead of being left in the hospital wing where his shoulder could be treated, he had instead been brought to this god-awful little room at gunpoint, and locked in.

He hadn't bothered shouting, or banging on the door, and he sure as hell wasn't going to beg to be let out. Fuck them, he thought miserably as he tried unsuccessfully to shift into a more comfortable position. If they left him there for a week, he wouldn't beg.

He shut his eyes, trying to shut out the pain, trying to shut out the closeness of his new prison, and tried desperately to focus on something beyond the nightmare that he was now trapped in. It didn't take long for an image to form in his mind. A face, and a voice to go with that face. Sharp, critical, sarcastic to the max… but also kind, understanding and, dare he go so far as to think it, loving…

A small smile touched his lips as he focused all his energies on keeping Alex's face clear in his mind's eye. He honestly felt that as long as he could keep her close in his heart and mind, then he had a chance of surviving this nightmare. He was sure that she was planning a rescue, along with Deakins, Mike, Carolyn and Jarod. If there was one thing he was certain of, it was that.

They would not leave him to suffer in this place. Fair enough, it might take a while, but he could hold out until then, couldn't he?

He sighed faintly, and the pain of his injuries faded as he let thoughts of Alex fill his mind. He recalled with pleasure the caustic attitude she dealt to so many suspects, and the loyal way she frequently defended him to both colleagues and enemies. She was his rock, his anchor, and he hoped and prayed that she knew it. Without her, he would have crashed and burned a long time ago.

A key turning in the lock of the door caught his attention, and he looked up dazedly as the door opened, and the woman that he recognised as Miss Parker walked in.

"Those sons of bitches," she muttered as she observed his battered features. She paused, and then walked over and crouched down in front of him. "Bobby?"

He regarded her sullenly.

"Come to gloat?" he asked, cringing at the taste of blood in his mouth as he spoke. Despite the harshness of his tone, though, there was no anger either in her expression or her voice when she replied.

"No, I didn't come to gloat," she answered gently. "I came to take you back to your room. I'm sorry about this. Raines had no right."

He didn't respond, instead looking away miserably. Parker hesitated, and then reached out to gently touch his chin and draw his gaze back to meet hers.

"Can you stand?"

For a long moment, it seemed he wasn't going to even try. But then, finally, he got awkwardly to his feet, all the while holding his right arm as immobile against his body as he could.

"Your arm is hurt?" she asked as she led him out of the room. Bobby spared the cleaners a dark look as he followed her out.

"My right shoulder. I think it was dislocated when they grabbed me."

Parker turned and reached for his shoulder, gently pressing her fingers against the joint. Bobby's strangled cry of pain told her he was right in his assessment.

"Let's get you back to your room," she murmured, throwing a vicious glare of her own in the direction of the four men. "Then we'll get one of the doctors in to look at it."

* * *

"You don't remember me, do you?" Parker asked softly as she escorted Bobby back to his room. He glanced at her, and the resentment in his eyes was all too clear.

"I remember you. I remember you holding a gun to my captain's head, and threatening to kill him if I didn't give myself up."

"I had no intention of killing him," she told him, and he was vaguely surprised to find himself instinctively believing her. "But if I hadn't put on that little performance, Lyle would have, and he _would_ have killed him… whether you gave yourself up or not. But that's not what I meant."

"What did you mean, then?"

"I meant, you don't remember me from when we were children, do you?"

Bobby fell silent, a slight frown on his face. Parker waited patiently, and was finally rewarded with the look of realisation that dawned in his eyes.

"Miss Parker… I remember Jarod brought you to meet me. But then… Raines…"

He trailed off, his breath catching in his throat. Parker gently squeezed his arm, drawing him back from those potentially damaging memories.

"I know. Raines came to get you for one of his experiments."

"You've changed," Bobby said softly. Parker bit back a sigh.

"Yes," she agreed with more than just a hint of sadness in her voice. "In more ways than one."

* * *

She took him back to his room, and summoned a doctor to come and see to his shoulder. Instead of leaving him there, though, she sat down beside him on the bed.

"Bobby, you need to think seriously about cooperating."

"Or what?" he asked. "I get beaten up again? Maybe next time I'll fight hard enough that they'll do permanent damage… or maybe even kill me."

"Stop," she growled. "You need to listen to me, Bobby. They aren't going to kill you. Whatever they do, it won't ever go that far. But you look at me now and tell me you value your life as little as that."

He looked away, sullen and angry. Parker went on quietly.

"For your own sake, work with Sydney. Do whatever he asks you to do. As long as you cooperate with him, he'll be able to minimise Raines' contact with you. But if you keep this up, if you keep fighting, the powers that be might just get impatient, and decide to let Raines have you after all. And then, you might really wish you were dead."

"You have no right to do this," Bobby whispered, his head bowed in grief and misery. "I'm a human being… Not an animal. I have the right to live my own life. You… You don't have the right to take that away from me."

"If they couldn't take you back, Bobby," Parker told him gently, "they would have killed you."

Slowly, he raised his head to look at her, and it was all she could do not to cringe at the despair in his eyes.

"What good is being alive when I've been reduced to being a… a commodity? I'm not a person in their eyes… whoever _they_ really are. I'm just a thing… to be bartered with. I might as well be dead."

"Would your partner want you to give up?" Parker asked quietly. "Alex, wasn't it?"

Bobby tensed noticeably beside her.

"Don't talk about her."

The sudden edge to his tone was unmistakable, and Parker knew she'd crossed an invisible line by bringing Bobby's partner into the discussion. Conceding, she rose up and walked over to the door. She paused before leaving, though, and looked back at Bobby.

"I'll say this, and then I'll leave you alone. Your colleagues… your friends… They'll be holding on to the hope that you're okay. If you were to die… by whatever means… think about just how badly that would devastate them all. Especially your partner."

And then she was gone.

Bobby sat staring at the locked door for minutes after she'd left, before finally lying down on the bed and crying out his heartache and despair into the thin pillow.

* * *

_Two days later_

"Very good," Sydney praised Bobby as he finished the last of the day's many exercises that had been set for him to do by the doctor. "That was excellent. You really do have a talent."

Bobby gave a soft, bitter laugh.

"Someone asked me, once. They asked how come I was so successful at getting into the heads of the criminals. I told them I'd been trained for it… I didn't realise how right I was. I _was_ trained for it… but not just to get inside their heads. I was trained to _become_ them. That's why I was so successful. I always went that one step further… and I never even realised I was doing it."

Sydney walked around and sat down carefully on the edge of the table.

"Tell me about one of your cases, where you did that."

Bobby was silent for a long moment, going back over past cases before a grim smile touched his lips.

"Nicole Wallace." He paused, and then laughed again. "She'd love this. She really would. She's free, and I'm the one who's been locked up."

"Who is Nicole Wallace?" Sydney asked, and Bobby sighed softly.

"A killer. I got inside her head… but I made the mistake of letting her get inside mine at the same time. She learnt everything she could about me, and then turned the tables on me. She played me at my own game, and she was successful… at least, to start with."

"Tell me," Sydney asked curiously, "each time you did this… worked your way into the mind of a criminal… how did you pull yourself out again?"

"I didn't," Bobby said, his voice trembling just slightly. "Alex did."

"Alex… Your partner?"

"Yes." Bobby shifted, adjusting his right arm awkwardly in the sling he had to wear while his injured shoulder healed. "She was always there to pull me back. She… She grounded me. I could never have done all that I did without her."

"She was important to you," Sydney mused. Bobby looked up at him.

"She _is_ important to me."

"Memories are important," Sydney conceded. "Be sure to hold on to those memories, Bobby. Don't allow yourself to forget her."

Bobby looked back at the mass of photos on the tabletop, and felt the bile rising in his gut at Sydney's words.

"I… I'm never going to see her again… am I?"

Sydney was silent. He knew what he wanted to tell his charge, but instinct warned him that it wouldn't be a wise idea. To give Bobby any sort of hope or encouragement would only lead to trouble with Raines, the Director and, ultimately, the Triumvirate.

"Don't forget her," he said finally, softly. Standing up, he drew all the photos together into one pile and picked them off the table. "Wait here. Your dinner will be brought up for you shortly. I'll be back in a little while."

Bobby watched Sydney go, and then let his head drop, pressing his face into the palm of his left hand. He dared not move from where he sat. Though he couldn't see them, he knew there were guards watching him. They would probably be just waiting for him to make a wrong move, and then…

He shifted his right arm again, wincing at the pain that flared in his shoulder from the movement. As much as he hated to admit it, Miss Parker had been right. He still valued his life too much to deliberately place himself at risk. As much as he hated what was happening to him, he was not yet desperate enough to intentionally risk injury. Not yet.

Footsteps alerted him to the fact that someone was coming towards him. Thinking it was whoever had been assigned to bring him his meal, he didn't bother to look up. It wasn't until he felt a hand on his left arm that he looked up.

In all honesty, Bobby really didn't recognise the man who stood there, watching him, but he still was able to guess his identity.

"Angelo?" he asked softly.

Angelo reached out tentatively, touching his fingertips to Bobby's damp curls in a feather-light touch.

"Bobby."

Bobby sucked in a sharp breath as he was abruptly assaulted by a long-suppressed memory.

* * *

"_Where are we going?" young Bobby asked in a frightened tremor as Raines urged him along a dark, dank corridor. _

"_Somewhere private," Raines answered. "I have someone for you to meet, Bobby. Hurry, now."_

_Frightened and curious at the same time, Bobby allowed himself to be hurried down the corridor, around a corner and finally into a little room. In that room there was a table with two chairs, and in one of the chairs sat another child, approximately the same age as Bobby._

"_Bobby, this is Timmy," Raines said. _

_Bobby glanced uneasily at Raines. He wanted to speak to the other child, but he'd been cruelly punished not two weeks ago after being caught with Jarod. _

"_You can speak to him," Raines told him, sounding almost pleasant. Almost. Trying to dampen his feeling of unease, Bobby turned his attention to the other boy._

"_Hi."_

_Timmy didn't smile, and just ventured a soft 'hi' in return. _

"_I have a simulation that requires both of you to participate," Raines told them. "Bobby, you are to take on the role of an interrogator. Timmy is a murder suspect. Your aim is to get a confession from him. His aim is to resist."_

_Bobby looked up at Raines, feeling increasingly unsettled._

"_What… what are the parameters?"_

"_There are no parameters this time," Raines answered him. "You're an investigator searching for a sadistic serial killer. You believe you have him in front of you. You aim to get a confession any way you can, even if it means pushing the boundaries of the law."_

_Bobby looked back to Timmy, who hadn't spoken a word other than that initial hello. He didn't like this. Timmy looked too timid and too frightened to be taking part in an aggressive simulation like this. He would have felt more at ease if it had been Jarod across the table from him, but this trembling, frightened boy…? It didn't feel right, and Bobby told Raines so after just a moment's hesitation. _

_A strange look flickered across Raines' face, and he crouched down in front of Bobby, reaching up to grab him by the face, hard enough to hurt. _

"_I've set you a simulation to perform, and you will perform it. If you won't, I'll send Timmy back to his room, and bring Kyle instead, only then you'll be the one in the position of the suspect, and Kyle will be the one interrogating you. Would you prefer that, Bobby?"_

_Bobby couldn't hide the sudden fear in his eyes at the mention of Kyle. He'd only met Kyle a couple of times, but the other boy really did frighten him. It was as though he had no soul, as impossible or improbable as that seemed. And as much as he was reluctant to go on the offensive against Timmy, his fear of what might happen should Raines carry out his threat was far greater. _

_Miserable and ashamed, Bobby responded with a quick shake of his head._

"_No, sir."_

"_All right, then. Begin."_

_

* * *

_

_Even with no parameters, and virtually no information to work with, Bobby excelled in the simulation. He didn't merely perform the role of the investigator, he became it. Raines stood back, watching with cruel pleasure as Bobby systematically took Timmy apart, until the other child was reduced to a sobbing mess, incapable of coherent speech. Leaving Timmy behind in the room, still crying pitifully, Raines ushered Bobby from the room, praising him liberally. _

_Initially, Bobby basked in the pleasure of being praised by Raines for once, rather than being in trouble with him. It wouldn't be until much later, in the solitary quiet of his own room, that what he had really done would finally sink in, sending him into a spiral of self-loathing and misery that would take Sydney weeks to break him out of_…

* * *

"Not your fault," Angelo said softly, bringing Bobby back to the present with a gentle hand pressed to his cheek.

Bobby rubbed at his eyes, and then reached out to draw Angelo to him in a fierce hug.

"I'm sorry, Angelo."

"Not your fault," Angelo said again. And then, whispering into Bobby's ear, "Not been forgotten. You… not forgotten. Jarod… planning to get you out. Be patient. Don't give up."

Abruptly, Angelo drew back and, with one last sad look at Bobby, he turned and slunk away into the shadows. Bobby let his breath out in a rush, sitting back with a soft thud. Not forgotten. That was what Angelo had told him. That he wasn't forgotten, that Jarod was planning to rescue him… and to be patient.

As a Centre worker walked into the room and set a tray in front of him, Bobby recalled again what both Sydney and Miss Parker had told him about cooperating. Was it possible to cooperate, and do what the Centre wanted of him, but still maintain his sense of self? Maybe it was, if he could cling to the hope of a rescue in the not too distant future.

He eyed the food in front of him with reluctance. None of it looked remotely appetising, and he suspected that he was going to be losing more than a little weight while he was stuck there.

"Bobby? Is something wrong?"

He looked around to see Sydney had returned, and was watching him quizzically.

"No," Bobby murmured, deciding not to mention the brief visit from Angelo. "It's okay."

"Then eat your dinner, and then you can go back to your room."

Fighting an urge to pull a face or make a smart ass comment about not being a child that needed to be told what to do, Bobby took up his fork and reluctantly began to eat.

* * *

_The end of the first week_

"This has been a good week, Bobby," Sydney praised him as they sat together in Sydney's private office. "You've worked hard, and that's been appreciated on all fronts. I think that perhaps you might be ready to begin some simple simulations next week."

Bobby didn't answer, but continued staring at the desk in miserable silence. Sydney watched him for nearly a minute before speaking quietly.

"When you arrived here a week ago, I made you a promise. Do you remember what the promise was?"

"Forget it, Sydney," Bobby said in a dull voice. "I know they're not going to let me make a phone call. You don't have to…"

He trailed off abruptly as Sydney pressed into his hand the handpiece of the phone on the desk.

"One phone call, ten minutes," Sydney told him quietly. "I spoke to the Director this morning, and told her how hard you've been working. She agreed to let you make the call, but be aware. You _are_ being monitored, even in here. Call your mother, but don't try anything foolish."

"Is this a once-off allowance?" Bobby asked, doing his best to keep his tone even and non-confrontational. Sydney smiled.

"I hope it won't have to be. One step at a time, Bobby. Let's just take it one step at a time."

Nodding his gratitude and compliance, Bobby dialled a long-memorised number, and waited for it to be answered.

* * *

_New York  
__One Police Plaza_

"Captain?" Mike asked as Deakins walked out into the bullpen, a frown on his face. "What's up?"

"I just spoke to Dr Shimo at Carmel Ridge," he answered. "Bobby called his mother about twenty minutes ago."

Alex's head shot up from where she'd been buried in a pile of paperwork.

"You're kidding?"

Abandoning his paperwork, Mike walked over, with Carolyn close behind.

"They let him make a phone call?" Mike asked, unable to keep the disbelief out of his voice.

"Apparently. Dr Shimo said the call lasted around ten minutes. He listened in on it partly due to policy and partly because I'd told him not to expect any visits or phone calls from Bobby for the immediate future."

"It's possible that the Centre tried bargaining with Bobby to gain his cooperation," Carolyn mused. "He does what they ask… They give him minor privileges, like being able to call and speak to his mother."

"What did Dr Shimo say about it?" Alex asked softly. "Did he say how Bobby sounded?"

Deakins hesitated, taking a moment to think his words through before answering.

"He said Bobby sounded stressed; that he tried to keep the conversation as normal as possible, but that he was stressed enough that even his mother was able to pick up on it. He said she asked him where he was calling from, and Bobby couldn't answer."

"Stressed," Alex muttered. "There's a big shock."

"He'd probably been warned against dropping any hints about what was going on," Mike guessed. "The phone call was probably being listened in on at his end, too. If he'd said anything about what was happening, God knows what might have happened."

Carolyn nodded.

"He would have needed to be hyper-vigilant with everything he said… Especially if he any chance of being allowed to call her again."

"I asked Dr Shimo if a watch can be kept," Deakins told them, "and if Bobby calls again, to contact us immediately."

"Just out of curiosity," Mike said, "how many people would be calling Bobby's mom each week?"

Deakins spared him an odd look.

"Only Bobby. Why?"

"And would he call the switchboard, or a direct line to a phone in her room?"

"He has a direct number for her," Alex answered when Deakins hesitated. "Mike, what are you getting at?"

"Well, I was wondering, what if we put a divert on her phone? So that if he calls her again, instead of his mom, the call comes through to us instead?"

Deakins stared at Mike thoughtfully.

"It's risky. Any calls they allow Bobby to make will probably be strictly monitored at his end."

"The big question," Carolyn murmured, "is whether we think it's a risk worth taking. Keeping in mind that Bobby is the one who's being put at risk. _Is_ it worth it?"

Deakins looked over at Alex.

"Alex, what do you think? Is it worth trying?"

For a long minute, Alex didn't answer. She weighed up the pros and cons in her mind, considering the risks as opposed to the benefits. Finally, she answered in a soft, but determined voice.

"I think we should do it. It might be the only chance we have to let him know directly that we're not just quitting on him."

"All right, then," Deakins agreed, doing his best to hide the reservation he felt. He understood the desire of the other three to make contact with Bobby. He wanted the same thing himself, but at the same time he couldn't help feel a spark of fear that their motives were selfish, and ultimately they were only placing Bobby in danger. "I'll talk to the powers about putting a tap and a divert on Frances Goren's phone, so that if Bobby _does_ call again, then the call can be diverted here, so that we can speak to him… hopefully without raising the suspicions of those bastards at the Centre."

"You don't think it's a good idea," Alex said quietly, picking up on his unease. Deakins sighed.

"Like I said, I think it's risky… but I'll do anything to get an indication that he's surviving… and to let him know we aren't giving up on him."

Alex sighed faintly, more thankful than she could properly voice at the prospect of maybe being able to actually talk to Bobby again.

"Thankyou."

* * *

_A week later_

Bobby sat in Sydney's office, waiting impatiently for the psychiatrist to arrive, and doing his damned best to suppress his natural curiosity at the many items of interest he saw around him. He dared not move from his seat, knowing that even then, his every move was being watched. It really was a hideous sensation, knowing that nothing he did went unnoticed.

He clasped his hands together in his lap, willing himself to stay still and quiet, and not do anything that would give the powers that be an excuse to revoke this privilege. Once a week, Sydney had promised him. As long as he did as he was asked, with no arguments, he would be allowed to phone his mother once a week and talk to her for ten minutes. It was hardly a satisfactory arrangement to his way of thinking, but he had to concede that ten minutes once a week was better than nothing.

The hardest part was deflecting her inevitable queries as to his whereabouts, and why he hadn't been to visit her, all the while hoping his evasiveness wouldn't lead to a fresh breakdown. He hoped fervently that Deakins had made good on his promise, was visiting her in his stead, to at least keep up some semblance of her routine.

The door opened and Sydney walked in, favouring Bobby with a warm smile.

"Are you ready to make that call, Bobby?"

Not for the first time, and probably not for the last, Bobby had to swallow the urge to make a biting reply. Instead, he let the voice in his mind, the voice that sounded so much like Alex, say what he wanted to say.

_No, I'm just sitting here acting all meek and mild for the fun of it._

His 'Alex' voice wasn't quite up to scratch yet in the snark department, but it was getting there. Out loud, though, he merely answered softly; "Yes."

Sydney sat down on the other side of the desk, and pushed the phone across the desk to Bobby.

"Go ahead."

Letting his breath out in a rush, Bobby picked up the phone, and dialled.

* * *

_One Police Plaza_

At first, the significance of the extra line on his phone flashing didn't register with Deakins. After a long, exhausting week, he would be the first to admit that he wasn't thinking a hundred percent clearly, and his first instinct was to ignore the phone altogether. In his exhaustion, he let the phone ring three times before he suddenly realised exactly what it was. Shouting for Alex, Mike and Carolyn, Deakins waited just two more rings before picking up the line and pressing the button to place the call on speakerphone so they could all hear.

"Hello, Bobby."

* * *

On the other end of the line, Bobby froze at the sound of his captain's voice, his brain virtually going into shut-down as he struggled to comprehend what was going on. He _had_ dialled his mother's direct line at Carmel Ridge… hadn't he? His second thought was mixed with an intense joy that he had a hard time concealing. Hearing Deakins' voice again sparked a sensation on relief deep within him that he could barely begin to scratch the depths of.

His third reaction was one of pure panic. If it became known that he was talking not to his mother, but to one of his colleagues, the punishment would be severe.

The captain's voice spoke again, quickly.

"_Bobby, listen to me. We diverted your mother's phone so that your calls would come here instead. We understand that you're being monitored, so act as though you're speaking to your mom._"

Bobby let his breath out slowly, and finally managed to speak.

"Hi… Mom. How… How are you?"

He didn't think he'd ever felt so uncomfortable, but hearing Deakins' voice gave his heart a lift the likes of which he hadn't experienced for a long time.

"_I'm not alone, Bobby. Alex, Mike and Carolyn are here, too._"

"_Bobby, are you okay?_"

It was all Bobby could do not to gasp aloud at the heart-achingly familiar voice of his partner and he stuttered a reply, careful to avoid direct eye contact with Sydney lest it become apparent that he was not speaking to his mother at all.

"I… I'm okay, Mom."

"_Have they hurt you at all?_" Alex asked anxiously. Bobby hesitated in replying, and Alex read volumes into that brief hesitation. "_They have._"

"_Bobby, listen up, pal,_" Mike spoke up. "_We're not giving up on you. We're going to get you out of there somehow. Until we can, you do whatever you have to in order to survive. You understand? Anyway you can, and don't feel ashamed about it." _

"_We're going to come for you, Bobby,_" Carolyn added. "_Trust us, okay?_"

Bobby swallowed hard, and suddenly found himself having to fight back the threat of tears. Just hearing their voices was enough to lift his spirits, and he wasn't so sure of his ability to speak and keep his voice even.

"I… I miss you, too," he mumbled.

* * *

Sparing his detectives a brief, grim look, Deakins spoke again quietly, quickly.

"Bobby, just answer yes or no. Have they hurt you?"

There was just a brief moment before Bobby responded in a docile tone that sounded horribly unnatural to all of them.

"_Yes._"

"Badly?"

"_No._"

"Have they drugged you at all?"

"_No_."

Deakins breathed a silent sigh of relief. That, at least, was something.

"Have you had to deal with Raines yet?"

"_No._"

Another relief.

"So you're just dealing with Sydney so far?"

"_Yes._"

Deakins hesitated, and then asked another question.

"Have you performed any simulations for them yet?"

Bobby answered that with a long silence before answering in a barely audible voice.

"_Yes_."

"No shame, Bobby," Mike cut in fiercely. "Like I said, you do what you've gotta do to survive that place. No shame, pal."

"Mike's right, Bobby," Alex spoke up, not quite able to keep her voice from trembling. "Don't you dare feel any shame over anything you do. You just concentrate on surviving until we come for you. And we _are_ going to come for you. Don't ever stop believing that, okay? Not ever!"

* * *

Bobby shut his eyes, trying in vain to keep the tears in check. Hearing all their voices was wonderful, but to hear Alex's voice was just about more than he could stand. He was about to reply when he heard the office door open behind him, and opened his eyes in time to see confusion and alarm on Sydney's face. A split second later, something hard and blunt struck him from behind, and he collapsed forward, out of the chair and slumping to the floor.

He heard Sydney shout something that he couldn't quite understand and then, all of a sudden, someone was crouching over the top of him, bending his right arm back painfully and stretching the recently healed shoulder joint. He uttered a strangled cry before clamping his jaw shut to avoid crying out.

There was a long moment of silence, and then a familiar rasping voice spoke.

"Make him scream."

* * *

"What the hell…?" Deakins growled at the sound of the heavy thuds, followed by incoherent shouting.

"Oh, shit, I think he's been busted," Mike muttered. A moment later, Mike's suspicions were confirmed when they heard a hideous, grating voice give a terrifying order.

"_Make him scream._"

* * *

The cleaner didn't hesitate. Grasping Bobby's right arm, he bent the arm back hard, over-extending the shoulder joint. Bobby couldn't stop himself. His scream of pain shattered the otherwise silent room, sending his head into a sickening spin as wave after wave of sheer agony washed over him.

Raines stood by, watching with a perverse pleasure as Bobby was tortured. Finally, it became too much and he lost consciousness, slumping motionless on the floor. Looking to the desk, Raines reached over, picked up the phone and hung it up. Then, sparing Sydney a dangerous look, Raines turned and walked out of the office without saying a word.

* * *

"Oh my god," Carolyn whispered in dismay as the line cut out. Mike and Deakins exchanged sickened looks while Alex sat there in numb silence, tears spilling down her cheeks as Bobby's scream of pain echoed horribly in their ears.

"We've got to get him out of there," Mike whispered, his own eyes starting to look a little red from unshed tears. "Captain, we have got to get him out of there."

"I know," Deakins murmured, rubbing self-consciously at his own eyes. "God, I know we do."

"We did that," Alex whispered in distress. "We did it to him. We knew they probably would have been listening to any calls he was allowed to make, but we still took that risk. And now, we've blown that chance for him. They won't let him make anymore calls after this. Even though it wasn't his doing, he's still going to be the one to suffer for it."

"That scream," Carolyn said softly. "They really hurt him…"

"Punishment," Alex said bitterly. "Punishment for disobedience. Those fucking bastards…"

"It achieved something, though," Deakins said, trying hard to keep his voice even for the sake of his detectives. "Bobby knows now that we aren't just going to forget about him. He was able to hear our voices, and know that he's at the forefront of all our thoughts. We aren't giving up on him."

"I hope that it'll be enough to help him keep his head above water," Alex said as she got unsteadily to her feet. "Because God knows it'll be the last time they'll let him have any sort of contact with anyone outside the Centre."

Deakins watched glumly as Alex walked out of the office, shoulders slumped and head down. After a moment, Mike and Carolyn followed in silence.

Shaking his head, Deakins pressed his hands over his face and prayed once more that Jarod would come back to them soon, with a plan to rescue their colleague and friend from this ongoing nightmare that he was trapped in.

* * *

_tbc..._


	11. Breaking Out

_One month later_

Bobby lay on his bed, arms clutching tightly at his sides. He tried hard not to move… to shudder… or even to breathe harder than was necessary. As it was, every shallow breath he took lit a fiery pain in his chest and ribs, and he wondered miserably whether one or more of them had been broken this time.

In retrospect, he had to concede he'd been in the wrong, but the simulation Raines had demanded he do had been abhorrent to him, and in the end he baulked and refused to do it.

Retribution had been swift and brutal, leaving him curled up on the floor of the simulation room, in agony and barely able to move. Eventually, a couple of Raines' men had picked him up and dragged him unceremoniously back to his room. Not the solitary cell, though. Raines had not attempted to put him there again, although the room into which he was locked every night was nearly as bad.

Then, he'd been left with an ominous warning to 'seriously reconsider his non-compliance'.

Well, fuck them, Bobby thought bitterly. And fuck Raines. He would cooperate with Sydney, but never with Raines. Never.

He heard the open, but made no effort to look. Looking would have meant moving, and that hurt too much.

"You know, I really don't know whether to think you're brave, or just plain crazy."

Bobby sighed softly at the voice, though whether it was out of weariness or relief, even he didn't know for sure. Miss Parker walked over and sat down carefully on the edge of the bed, watching Bobby thoughtfully. He remained on his side, facing the wall and showing no indication that he even knew she was there.

"Are you going to look at me?" she asked finally. Bobby shut his eyes. Part of him wanted to respond, to welcome the company she provided him with, and another part of him wanted to tell her to fuck off and leave him alone, that she was no better than the rest of them.

"Please," he whispered finally, "leave me alone."

Miss Parker hesitated, and then reached out to brush her fingertips lightly over his dark curls. It didn't escape her notice, the way he flinched away from her touch.

"Sit up, and let me dress those ribs for you. Then I'll leave you alone to wallow."

For nearly a minute, he didn't respond. Miss Parker didn't grow impatient, though. She simply waited in silence for him to gather himself. Finally, Bobby shifted, sobbing faintly in pain as he did so, and pushed himself up slowly into a sitting position.

"Let's get this off you," she murmured, helping him to pull off his shirt, and it was all she could do not to cringe at the sight of the masses of bruising that covered his torso. "Why won't you just cooperate with Raines, Bobby? Why do you give Raines an excuse to do this to you?"

Bobby stared miserably at the floor, doing his best not to cry out as she applied ointment to the worst of the bruising.

"I'd rather get the crap beaten out of me every day by his goons, than give in and do what he wants. If I do that, then I'm giving up… and I'm not ready to give up yet."

She regarded him with sympathy.

"Bobby, you know they're not going to let you go. They lost Jarod… They won't lose you, too."

"Sydney said the same thing," he mumbled.

"He was right," Parker confirmed. "And you're not doing yourself any favours by fighting like this."

Bobby looked at her balefully.

"What would you do if you were in my position? Do you even know what it's like to be locked up like this? To know that everything you say… everything you do is being recorded? To know that you're living purely at someone else's behest?"

Parker paused in answering, her mind flickering back briefly to a memory of walking into one of Jarod's traps, and being locked up with Lyle.

"Yes," she answered softly. "I think I do."

Before he had a chance to respond, she began to wrap a wide bandage around his torso, to strap his ribs. He winced, and grunted in pain, and she offered him a wry smile.

"Sorry, but it's going to hurt a lot worse tomorrow if I don't."

"Why?" Bobby asked softly. She glanced at him questioningly.

"What do you mean?"

"Why are you doing this? Why are you helping me at all?"

He was answered with a flat stare as Parker abruptly stood up.

"Hey, if you want to keep up the tough guy act, be my guest. I don't _have_ to do any of this. I just thought it might help to make things a little easier on you. But if you'd rather, I can just go."

She turned and walked to the door. Her hand was on the knob when Bobby suddenly broke his paralysis.

"I… I'm sorry… Please, don't go."

Parker hesitated, and then looked back at him slowly.

"Are you sure?"

He nodded, quietly hating himself for begging.

"Yes. Please… I'm sorry. I just… I don't know who to trust."

Parker returned to the bed, sat down next to him and resumed bandaging his chest.

"I won't ask you to trust me. But I hope you believe me when I tell you that I don't want to see you get hurt. And if you keep fighting Raines, you're going to keep getting hurt… and it's going to get progressively worse every time."

"Do you know what it was that he wanted me to do?" Bobby asked softly. She paused, watching him carefully. This was dangerous ground, for Bobby to talk to her about any simulations Raines tried to force him to do. After a moment, she gave in with a sigh. As a Centre employee, there was no time when she wasn't in some degree of danger. Now was no different to any other time.

"What was it?" she asked. He stared down at the floor, unshed tears glistening in his eyes.

"He wanted me to take on a role of a terrorist… and plan out an attack on the scale of 9/11. He wanted me to simulate the hijacking and crashing a plane… with the intention of causing maximum damage and loss of life. I… I couldn't do it."

Parker shut her eyes. Raines had tried and succeeded in creating a psychopath with Jarod's brother, Kyle. She dreaded to think what he was trying to accomplish now with Bobby.

"Are all the simulations he wants to put you through like that one?"

Bobby drew in a shuddering breath.

"Three days ago… he wanted me to simulate a… a rapist… who attacks children. And last week, he tried to force me to simulate a serial killer."

"Son of a bitch," Parker murmured.

"I can't do it," Bobby whispered shakily. "I can't give in to him. I'd rather be dead than give him what he wants."

"I understand," Parker conceded. "But you're on dangerous ground, Bobby. Sooner or later, Raines is going to lose his patience with you, and when that happens… I really don't know what he'll do."

"I don't care," Bobby said bitterly. "He can do whatever the hell he wants. I won't cooperate with him."

Park felt a chill race down her spine at his determined words.

"Bobby, don't underestimate Raines. If he got his way, you'd disappear into the bowels of this place, never to be seen by anyone except him. You can't begin to imagine what he's capable of."

"I think I have a pretty good idea," Bobby mumbled. Parker sighed, and finished tying off the bandage.

"No, I don't think you do."

"You're saying I should do what he wants me to do?"

"I'm saying, be very careful." She stood up, paused, and then reached down to gently push a rogue lock of hair back into place and lightly caress his stubbled cheek. "It's easy to go insane in this place. I wouldn't like to see that happen to you."

"Like it happened to Angelo?" Bobby asked. Miss Parker withdrew from him slowly.

"I can tell you for a fact that Raines was directly responsible for what was done to Angelo," she told him quietly. "And that's all the more reason why you need to tread carefully. If he no longer thinks he can persuade you to cooperate, he _will_ resort to other means. And believe me when I tell you that you won't like any of them."

Bobby watched as she left his room, locking the door behind her.

"I'll take my chances," he murmured after she'd gone.

* * *

He'd noticed it when he was lying on the floor of the sim room, curled up in a tight ball and struggling to minimise the pain he was in. He marvelled that he hadn't seen it sooner. But then, perhaps he had, and just hadn't given it any further thought. He suspected that it was only the escalating violence that he was suffering as a result of his 'non-compliance' with Raines that he had bothered to really take note.

It was a vent shaft, covered with a wire panel and it was just big enough for a man to crawl through.

A month ago, he wouldn't have even contemplated it, but he'd lost a lot of weight after a month of being on a strictly controlled diet and intensive physical exercise, and he had slimmed down considerably. He'd caught a glimpse of himself in a mirror in Sydney's office a couple of days ago, and had been surprised and disturbed by his altered appearance. His hair was longer, and his face noticeably thinner.

Gone was the middle-aged chubbiness that had been starting to take hold, leaving him looking visibly leaner. Lean enough, he thought now, to be able to crawl through that ventilation shaft.

The more he thought about it, the more the idea appealed to him. The only thing stopping him from trying immediately was his lack of knowledge of the Centre. By the time Jarod had escaped, he had an intricate knowledge of the building. By comparison, his chances of laying his hands on the plans of the building were slim to none. The only time he'd been let near a computer had been under Sydney's strict supervision, and he'd not been given a chance to do anything other than what he was expected to do.

On the other hand, he mused as got awkwardly to his feet and tried to stretch some of the more painful kinks out of his body, there was one person who might possibly be able to get that information for him without raising suspicions.

His gaze went up to the small vent above his bed. Maybe, just maybe…

"Angelo," he called softly, taking care not to move his lips too much. He'd learnt soon after his recapture that the cameras which filmed him in his room lacked sound. It was something that he'd taken frequent advantage of in the weeks that followed. "Angelo…?"

Silence met his call, but he waited patiently. If nothing else, this place was teaching him endless patience. Minutes ticked by, until a voice came to him through the shaft.

"_Bobby_…"

Bobby fought the urge to smile. He didn't trust Raines, Lyle, Parker… Hell, he didn't even truly trust Sydney, but he'd soon discovered that Angelo could always be relied upon as a safe haven from the nightmare that his life had become. They'd had many a conversation through this shaft, and it was one of the few things that had helped him to keep his sanity. And God knew how damned hard _that_ had been.

A not so small, very cynical part of him wondered what the Powers That Be would do if he were to follow in his mother's footsteps, and suffer a major psychotic break. He couldn't deny the idea was seriously starting to appeal to him. To just completely detach himself from reality, and retreat to an inner world where nothing mattered anymore… It wasn't going to happen, of course, but he wondered all the same.

"Angelo, I need your help," Bobby whispered. "I need the plans for this building. I need to see the plans for the ventilation shafts and tunnels. Can you get that for me?"

His question was answered with a long silence.

"_Bobby… escaping_?"

"I hope to," he admitted softly. Again, silence.

"_Jarod's coming back_," Angelo told him, with slight agitation in his voice. "_Patience_…"

"I can't wait for him, Angelo. I need to at least try to get out. Please, will you help me?"

"_I'll help_."

And then he was gone again.

Bobby sighed and sank down onto the bed, suddenly exhausted. It was a dangerous road he was planning on trying, and he knew the punishment would be severe if he failed. Alternatively, if he succeeded, it would mean living on the run; the very scenario that he had baulked at when Jarod originally suggested it.

Whichever way it went, he was gradually coming to accept that his life as Detective Robert Goren, of the NYPD's Major Case Squad, was over. With it, came the painful acceptance that he would probably never see his friends and family again, because if he were successful at escaping, he could never go home to New York. He could never risk contacting any of them – for their sakes as well as his own.

His life would become that of a drifter, with no permanent home… always running… always looking over his shoulder… never truly safe…

But he was being melodramatic, now. The first step was to get those plans, and then he would take the next step of planning his actual escape. Patience. It was all about patience.

Bobby sighed softly as his eyes slid shut and sleep began to overtake him. He didn't know whether he would be successful or not. All he knew was that he had to try.

* * *

Angelo came through for Bobby not quite a week later. Bobby was sitting alone in the room where he was given all of his meals, waiting for lunch to be brought. Sydney had finally convinced the Director that he wasn't going to try and escape, that there was no need to have cleaners on guard duty _inside_ the room while he did something as menial as eat a meal, and the irony of _that_ was not lost on Bobby. So he really was alone, except for the cameras that continued to monitor his every move.

Movement attracted his attention, and he looked up to see Angelo emerging out of the shadows. A small, tired smile touched his lips at the sight of the savant. In the midst of all the misery, Angelo had become a true saving grace, appearing to comfort him when he felt at his most miserable, and reassuring him that he hadn't been forgotten by those who meant the most to him.

"Angelo," Bobby murmured, willingly embracing the other man in a fierce hug. As they hugged, Bobby felt Angelo slip something that felt suspiciously like carefully folded paper in between his skin and the elastic waistband of his sweat pants.

"Be careful," Angelo whispered into his ear. "Mr Raines… watching you."

That didn't surprise Bobby. Raines was always watching him. He was due to spend that afternoon with Sydney, though, and Sydney was not as paranoid as Raines was. Sydney was willing to allow him some time to himself, unmonitored. Time that he could put to good use memorising building plans…

"Angelo? What are you doing here?"

Angelo drew back slowly from Bobby at the sound of Sydney's voice. Bobby looked up uneasily at Sydney, but there was no anger in the older man's eyes. Merely curiosity.

"He just came to say hello," Bobby said by way of explanation. "He wasn't doing any harm."

Sydney smiled a little.

"It's all right. I have no objections. Bobby, I've decided to scrap the simulation that I had planned for you today. I thought you might appreciate a rest from all of that."

Bobby couldn't quite hide his eagerness and relief at the prospect of not having to do a simulation. As much as he was willing to work with Sydney, he couldn't keep from feeling that every simulation he did, every new identity he assumed, sapped a little more of his own identity. His greatest fear was to lose his sense of self entirely, until he didn't know who he really was anymore.

"What are we going to do, then?" he asked. Sydney chuckled softly at the eagerness and sudden cheer in Bobby's voice.

"I thought we could spend the afternoon in my office… just talking… And, if you like, you can have some time to yourself, and perhaps work in your notebook."

Bobby nodded wordlessly. His notebook was something that Sydney had given to him after his first week. It was a simple spiral bound notebook, where he was encouraged to flesh out any ideas he had. At first, he hadn't known what Sydney meant, but before long he found himself coming up with ideas and potential inventions, and surprising himself greatly with his new-found creativity and inventiveness.

He'd come to look forward to the time that Sydney gave him to brainstorm, and work in his notebook, for not only did he find pleasure and relief in letting his mind wander, it was also a welcome break from everything else he had to do that was not nearly so pleasant.

More to the point, though, was that Sydney's private office contained only one solitary camera, making it pretty much the most private place in the entire building. There was just the one camera, built into the clock face on the wall. Bobby had soon learnt that if he sat in just the right position, he could quite adequately conceal what he was doing, and he knew this because he had overheard Raines abusing Sydney for letting Bobby spend so much time in his office where, quote, 'they couldn't adequately monitor the subject'.

So, he knew he had at least some degree of privacy in that room, making it possible for him to get away with various minor infractions – whether it was nibbling on an apple that he'd pilfered from his lunch tray, reading a book that he might have slipped discreetly off Sydney's shelves… or studying the plans of the Centre with a mind to making his escape. It was the most privacy he could hope for, and he intended to take full advantage of it.

"I'd like that," he murmured, offering up a grateful smile. Sydney patted him lightly on the shoulder.

"Very well, then. As soon as you've had your lunch, we'll go straight to my office."

* * *

Sydney stayed with him for nearly two hours, talking about subjects that ranged from Bobby's physical wellbeing to the various simulations he had been doing. Bobby tried a number of times to probe for information about what was going on in the world beyond the Centre's walls – just some scrap of news, to try and keep himself grounded – but the psychiatrist was far too wily, and gave nothing away.

"None of that concerns you anymore, Bobby," Sydney told him gently when Bobby flat out asked why he wouldn't answer his questions. "You must accept that. To talk about those things would just amplify your longing for a world that you don't belong in anymore."

Bobby looked away, but not quite quickly enough to hide his tears. Sydney's words cut deeply, and painfully. He'd spent the last month and a half trying desperately to cling to his memories of that outside world, but with every day that passed, with every simulation he performed… with every beating he suffered at the hands of Raines' men, those memories grew more distant, and harder to hold on to.

Every night, Bobby ran through the painfully short list of his closest friends, picturing their faces, and trying to hear their voices in his head. Some were clearer than others. He found that his memories of Alex and Deakins were more vivid than those of Mike and Carolyn. It was starting to become a real effort to remember Mike's voice in his mind, and he could barely remember how Carolyn sounded at all. Their faces had not yet faded from his mind's eye, but a horrible feeling deep in his gut told him it wouldn't be long.

He could only pray that, of all the faces and voices he was trying to desperately to hold on to, Alex's would be the one who would never fade from his memory.

A hand alighted on his shoulder, and Sydney's voice spoke quietly.

"I'm sorry, Bobby, but it would be best if you would try to forget. The world outside these walls is no longer a part of your life, and it never will be again. Accept that, and you will eventually be happier for it."

Happier, Bobby thought bitterly as Sydney patted him again on the shoulder and excused himself from the office. Yeah. Right. Not in this lifetime.

He waited until Sydney was out of sight before getting up and beginning to pace back and forth slowly, the way he did every time that Sydney left him alone like this. He made no attempt to leave the confines of the office. He had tried that just once, the very first time Sydney had left him there. Two cleaners had appeared out of nowhere, and their guns aimed at his face had been a very big incentive to beat a hasty retreat back into the office. He'd not bothered trying again, knowing damn well that even though they weren't in sight, the cleaners were still there, watching to make sure he didn't make a wrong move. Specifically, he didn't try to move _out_ of the office.

He paced the length of the office for nearly ten minutes before picking his notebook up off Sydney's desk and seating himself carefully so that his back was squarely to the camera in the clock. Then, taking extreme care with his movements, he extracted the paper from where it had been tucked into the waistband of his sweats.

Bobby had to smile when he got a good look at it. Angelo hadn't simply folded the papers up. He'd folded it origami style into the shape of what Bobby guessed was supposed to be a police badge. He drew in a slow breath, finding he suddenly had to fight the threat of tears.

_Remember who you are_…

It was a mantra he'd taken to repeating to himself every night before sleep took him.

_I am Robert Goren. I am Robert Goren. I **am** Robert Goren_…

It meant fractionally less to him with each day that passed.

Pushing aside his pain at the thoughts of what he'd lost, Bobby unfolded the paper and found himself staring at a complicated diagram of lines and symbols. He frowned deeply for a moment, before his vision adjusted and he began to understand what he was looking at.

His breath escaped him in a rush as his sharp eyes picked out the ventilation shaft that ran from the duct in the sim room. Eyes narrowed to near pin-points as he followed the line of that shaft from the point of origin, right through to where it connected to a tunnel outside the Centre walls.

Bobby went over that path again and again, not just seeing it on the sheet before him, but also envisaging the actual tunnel. Over the next hour, he travelled not only that path over and over in his mind's eye, but three other possible escape routes that he'd found. By the time Sydney returned to the office, he'd destroyed the papers spirited to him by Angelo, and he knew those four paths as well as he knew the eleventh floor of One Police Plaza back home in New York.

His breath caught a little in his throat. Home. That was a reminder he hadn't needed.

"Nothing today?"

He looked up as Sydney walked back in and came over to look down at the blank pages of his notebook.

"Sorry," Bobby apologised, and was quietly disturbed that apologising was becoming a reflex action with him.

"It's all right," Sydney assured him. "Next time, perhaps. Now, Bobby, I'll be going away this weekend. Raines has been instructed by the Director to leave you alone, but if anything happens while I'm gone, I want you to tell me. Do you understand?"

Bobby nodded wordlessly, feeling a distinct chill of fear at the thought of Sydney not being around.

Standing up again, Sydney crossed to the bookshelves, and selected three books.

"Here," he said, coming back to the desk and handing the three books to Bobby. "I want you to relax this weekend, Bobby. Don't think about our work. Read, and relax."

Bobby clutched the books to his chest as though they were a lifeline, and spoke softly in answer with his eyes cast down to the floor.

"Thankyou."

* * *

_New York_

Alex awoke with a violent start, lathered in sweat from trembling almost uncontrollably from chills. She lay still and silent for a long while before her mind came back to the present, and she remembered that she was safe in bed, in her home. And then she remembered the nightmare that had jolted her so brutally out of her slumber.

Bobby… Of course, it had been about Bobby. Just about all her dreams now were about Bobby, and they were rarely good. Even on those few occasions when they were pleasant, it was always bittersweet, and left her feeling even more miserable when she woke up.

In this instance, there had been nothing pleasant about it. She remembered in her dream that she hadn't actually seen him, but she could hear him calling to her, begging her to help him. Begging her to save him… And it was a plea that she was powerless to respond to, either in her dreams or in reality.

Shuddering, Alex dragged herself out of bed and made her way out to get water from her kitchen. The sound of snoring stopped her cold and sent her mind into hyper drive, until she suddenly remembered that Mike had accompanied her on a binge session at a nearby bar and had ended up crashing at her place. She wondered briefly why she didn't have a massive hangover, like he was bound to have when he woke up. Then she remembered that her binge had ended very abruptly when the bartender, remembering her from past visits she'd made there with Bobby, plonked a margarita down in front of her, 'on the house'.

She'd spent the rest of the evening staring at the untouched drink in melancholic silence, until the sound of Mike offering to do karaoke without musical backing spurred her haul his drunken ass out of there.

Two months, she reflected miserably as she made her way past the snoring heap on the sofa that was Mike Logan. It had been nearly two months since Bobby's abduction by the Centre. She'd spent the first month waiting and hoping desperately for a call from Jarod to say that they had a plan, and they were ready to go and get Bobby back. But nothing had happened, except from that disastrous attempt to speak to Bobby by diverting calls from Frances Goren's private phone to Jim Deakins' office.

Oh, the nightmares she'd had after _that_ one. And she hadn't been the only one, judging by the constant ashen colour of the captain's face in the days following that incident. Riddled with guilt, Deakins had had the divert on Frances' phone removed, but there had been no more phone calls from Bobby to his mother.

Now, a second month was nearly gone, and still they seemed no closer to getting Bobby out of there. Quietly, Alex was starting to wonder whether Jarod ever intended on coming back. Forget assurances. What reason did he have for putting himself at risk again? The Centre had Bobby now; Jarod was essentially a free man.

Before she knew it, Alex was sobbing quietly over the sink, the glass of water forgotten. She missed her partner, and she wanted him back. Nothing would be right again until that happened.

She was so caught up in her own grief that she didn't notice movement behind her until she felt a strong pair of hands gently turning her around, and she found herself wrapped up in a warm, strong embrace.

"Thought you were asleep," she whispered in between hiccoughing sobs.

"I sleep light," he murmured, rubbing her back gently in soothing circles. "Thinking about Bobby?"

"What gave me away?"

He smiled, but there was little humour in that smile.

"We are going to rescue him from that place, Alex. Don't give up, okay?"

"It's been two months!" Alex choked out, her voice muffled by his rumpled shirt. "Do you know what sort of damage could be done in two months?"

"I know," he murmured, deciding not to even try and argue. "But Bobby's a tough guy, and we have to hold on to the hope that when we do get him back, whatever damage has been done will be reversible. We've got some pretty damn good shrinks to fall back on here, remember. Skoda… Huang… Olivet… And I can vouch for Olivet. She helped me enough times."

"What scares me is that he might really be emotionally and mentally damaged enough to actually need a shrink," Alex admitted. Mike hugged her fiercely.

"It's not going to be easy, Alex. I think we all know that. But there's no reason why it has to be hopeless. But one step at a time. First we have to get him back, and for that we have to be patient, and wait for Jarod."

"Jarod," Alex spat bitterly. "How do we know he's even trying to help Bobby? For all we know, he could have just decided to blow Bobby off and get on with his own life."

The sudden silence, and sudden stillness from Mike caught Alex's attention, and she drew back and looked up at him slowly.

"What?" she asked softly. "What is it?"

Mike groaned, then, and scrubbed a hand over his face.

"Fuck… I'm sorry, Alex. I promised Deakins I'd tell you, but then we went to the bar… and I went and got shit-faced and forgot."

"Forgot what?" Alex demanded. "Damn it, Mike, spit it out!"

"Deakins got a call from Jarod. It was while you out meeting your snitch this afternoon. He told Deakins that he's managed to track down that friend of his that he told us about, the one who'd be willing to help get Bobby out. The only problem is the guy is on a job… I think he said in Iran… Anyway, it's gonna be at least another month before Jarod will be able to get together with him to start planning a rescue."

It was all Alex could do not to start crying again. As it was, Mike could read the devastation on her face as clear as day.

"Another month…? Mike, how long do you think Bobby could last in that place?"

He drew her back in close for another hug.

"We have to pray that he will, Alex. Because there's nothing else we can do now, except wait. And I know it's a bitch. I hate it as much as you do, but we don't have any other choice. We don't want to jump the gun, and get Bobby killed."

"Like we could have done with that phone trick?" she asked, and immediately regretted her words. Mike may have come up with the idea, but she had gone along with it whole-heartedly, able only to think of talking to Bobby, and hearing his voice. Deakins had seen the risks, and had voiced his concerns, but none of them had really paid any attention… until that god-awful scream of pain that had burned its way into all their memories. Then, and _only then_, had they finally understood the gravity of the mistake they'd made. And then, it had been too late.

"You need sleep, Alex," Mike murmured, not loosening his hold on her.

"Come to bed with me?" she asked before her brain could catch up with her mouth. Mike froze.

"Alex… I don't think…"

"I just want someone to hold me," she whispered. "Please, Mike. I don't want to be alone."

The sigh that escaped him was one of pure relief, much to her amusement, and he bent down to press and gentle kiss to the top of her head.

"Okay, Alex. Okay."

* * *

Bobby had known as soon as Sydney told him he would be away from the Centre that weekend that there would be trouble. He didn't need to be psychic, or super intelligent to know. All he needed to know was that Raines had been waiting for an opportunity to get at him without Sydney's knowledge, and this weekend he'd been presented with a perfect opportunity.

From Friday night onwards, Bobby waited in fear, waited for Raines to come for him. Saturday morning passed, and nothing. Afternoon… Evening… All amounted to nothing. But then, just after eight on Saturday night, Bobby's fears were finally proved right.

He had been sitting on his bed, trying to focus on one of the three books Sydney had given him, when his door opened and a cleaner stepped inside, brandishing a gun.

"Move," the man told him in monotone. Bobby's first instinct was to be a smart ass, but he clamped down on that urge. He didn't know exactly what was going on yet, and there was no reason to get himself beaten up… or worse… until he knew exactly what was wanted of him. Grimacing, he put the book aside and walked silently out of his room.

* * *

Bobby found himself back in the sim room, confronted by Raines and a single chair that was fitted out with restraints. He stopped several feet away, his breath catching in his throat. What in the name of God did Raines want to do to him that involved restraints?

"Come here," Raines demanded. "Sit here."

Bobby shook his head, suddenly fighting to control the panic that was surging through him.

"No. I want to go back to my room."

Raines glared at him.

"I won't ask you again. Sit here, now."

"No," Bobby said again. "Sydney said I didn't have to do anything this weekend. I'm going back to my room, _now_."

He turned to walk away, only to find himself suddenly in the grip of two of the cleaners. He struggled, but they had his arms in vice-like grips, dragging him backwards across the floor and dumping him forcefully in the chair. He tried to get back up again, but the other cleaners pounced, so that he had no hope of pulling free.

Within a matter of seconds, despite his efforts, his wrists and ankles were secured by the restraints, leaving him effectively helpless. By the time the haze cleared from his vision, and he was able to see clearly, Raines was standing in front of him and brandishing the biggest damn syringe he'd ever seen.

"What… what are you doing?" Bobby whispered, barely able to suppress his terror.

"Just relax, Bobby," Raines rasped. He waited as one of the men tied off Bobby's arm at the elbow and swabbed Bobby's forearm. "This won't hurt if you just relax."

"What is that?" Bobby demanded to know.

"Just a mild hallucinogen," Raines answered placidly. "It's experimental, and hasn't been given approval for human testing. We're being paid to test it for them."

He glanced at his men, and nodded dismissively. They exited silently and swiftly, leaving Bobby alone with the evil doctor.

"Please," Bobby whispered as Raines leaned in close. "Don't…"

Raines glanced up at Bobby. For a brief moment their eyes met, and Bobby was chilled by the vicious cruelty that he saw there.

"You are going to learn to cooperate with me, Bobby," Raines hissed. "One way or another."

He then injected the contents of the syringe into the out-jutting vein.

"That should start taking effect in five or ten minutes," Raines murmured, more to himself than to Bobby. "I'll be back in a little while." He paused, flashing Bobby a warning look. "Don't try to fight it, Bobby. You'll only cause yourself more grief if you do."

Then he was gone, and Bobby was alone.

* * *

As soon as Raines was out of the room, Bobby began to struggle with the restraints that held him so securely. He didn't know for sure what to expect with the drug that he'd just been injected with, but he thought he could probably guess. Raines had called it a hallucinogen. Whether that was accurate, Bobby couldn't know, but he figured Raines was planning on messing with his head.

A string of thoughts rushed through his mind, but the predominant one was to get away. Now, while he was still in his right mind. Escape, get away from whatever Raines was planning.

He grunted softly as he struggled against the restraints, trying desperately to get at least one hand loose, but it was a useless exercise. The straps were too tight, and locked down too well. He couldn't free himself.

Shutting his eyes, Bobby tried not to sob. This was one of the things he had been terrified of, that Raines would begin to use him again for his sadistic medical experiments. It had damn near destroyed him when he was a child, and he had a horrible suspicion that his resistance to that sort of torture would not be that much greater now.

Of course, Raines had deliberately bided his time, waited until Sydney was out of the way, and then made his move. And once this sadistic little experiment was over with, Bobby knew it would only be a matter of time before Raines got permission from the higher powers to resume his own personal program of testing.

Bobby groaned. Raines was the mad scientist, and he was the poor sap who got to be the guinea pig.

"Alex," he whispered, barely aware of the tears that trickled slowly down his cheeks. "Please… help me…"

The hand that closed over his startled him back into semi-awareness, and he looked around dazedly. For a moment, his vision was hopelessly blurred, and he couldn't make out the figure crouched beside him. His rapidly degenerating thought process ran through a list of possibilities, including the likelihood that he was merely hallucinating, before his vision finally focused on Angelo.

"Angelo…" Bobby whispered. Angelo didn't respond, but rather picked carefully at the restraint that held Bobby's left wrist, undoing it. He then started on the restraints that held Bobby's ankles.

"Angelo, what are you doing?" Bobby asked hoarsely. "Raines will see… He'll punish you."

Angelo paused, glanced up at Bobby and grinned maniacally. He then went back to undoing the restraints. In that moment, Bobby realised what Angelo had done, for him not to care about the cameras.

"You… overrode the cameras?" he asked as he picked open the last restraint with trembling fingers. Angelo grinned again, and made a looping gesture with his index finger.

"Copy…" he said. "Loop… They think you're still tied up. Watching… but they don't see."

Bobby let his breath out in a rush, and fell forward into Angelo's arms, hugging the other man fiercely.

"Thankyou," he whispered.

Angelo patted his cheek affectionately, and then pointed to the vent. Bobby looked, and saw it was open, that the grill had been removed.

"Come," Angelo urged him, skittering across the floor and crawling into the vent shaft. "Come…"

Bobby didn't hesitate and, without so much as a glance backwards, he crawled into the shaft after Angelo.

* * *

It was dirty, dusty and dark, and Bobby didn't give a damn. He followed along behind Angelo, struggling to keep his bearings. Angelo was talking to him, but he couldn't make any of it out. The sound of Angelo's voice was fading in and out, like someone had their finger on the volume control and was randomly pushing it up and down. At one point, his eyesight began to do that same and, for one frightening moment, he thought he was actually going blind. But then they came out into a dimly lit area of the shaft, and Bobby realised with relief that his apparent blindness was due instead to a simple lack of light.

Angelo moved at a cracking pace, and Bobby guessed he spent a great deal of time moving around the vent shafts. It wasn't long before Bobby was hopelessly disoriented, and had no idea where they were. But when a siren suddenly began to wail, vibrating through the very walls around them, Bobby knew he had no choice but to trust in Angelo completely, and let him continue to lead the way. His absence had clearly been discovered, and if he broke away on his own now, then it would be tantamount to turning himself over to Raines.

At some point, in his increasingly hazy state of mind, Bobby became aware of the sudden chill in the air around them. The temperature within the Centre was strictly controlled, so this steady drop in the temperature could only mean one thing. They were out…

The shaft suddenly widened into a tunnel that was big enough for both men to stand in, albeit hunched over. Angelo didn't hesitate, scrambling to his feet and taking off at a loping run. Bobby tried to follow, but the drugs he'd been injected with were finally starting to take hold, and he suddenly discovered his balance was shot. Staggering to the side, Bobby crashed into the wall and collapsed, his head spinning hopelessly.

Angelo realised Bobby wasn't behind him, and hurried back, clasping at Bobby's hand and trying to pull him up.

"Must get up," he begged anxiously. "Bobby… get up!"

A whimper of fear escaped Bobby's lips as, right before his eyes, Angelo morphed into Raines, and he tried to cringe away from him. Angelo hesitated, and then knelt down in front of Bobby. He didn't say a word, but instead reached out to lay a hand on Bobby's head with a firm but reassuring pressure. He then clasped his other hand to Bobby's cheek.

Slowly, painfully slowly, it occurred to Bobby that he wasn't being hurt, that the figure in front of him that he thought was Raines, was not hurting him. Slowly, he became aware of the hand on his head, and the warm dry palm that patted his cheek gently. Raines would never have been so gentle and considerate towards him, he realised numbly, and forced himself to look around.

Raines was gone, and in his place…

"Alex…" Bobby whispered helplessly, tears flooding his eyes as his drug-filled mind formed a new hallucination. The image in front of him reached for him, and drew him silently into a warm embrace for several seconds before rising up and urging him up as well.

Shaking, confused and frightened, Bobby allowed himself to be led away down the tunnel, and out of the Centre.

* * *

"_Raines!_"

Raines shivered, despite himself. Very few people would have dared bellow his name like that – even the arrogant Mr Parker. So, when he did, it was a fair given that he was deep in the hole. He turned slowly, just as Mr Parker strode into the sim room, his face black as thunder.

"What the _hell_ do you think you were doing with him?"

"I wasn't doing anything," Raines growled, but Parker wouldn't be deterred by the death glare that Raines was firing at him.

"And the 'nothing' that you were doing needed restraints?" he demanded. Raines said nothing, choosing instead to scowl at the floor. Parker stood by the empty chair in silence, feeling his blood pressure rise by the minute. "Just what the hell did you do to him, Raines?"

"It was just a drug test," Raines hissed. "A mild hallucinogen…"

"An _untested_ hallucinogen," Parker corrected. Raines was unapologetic.

"Of course. We were getting a lot of money to test its effects on a human."

"You mean you were," Parker snapped. "Damn it, Raines… Well, I think we know what the effect was. It made him run! Now we've got to find him."

"He won't get far," Raines said. "My men are already out looking for him."

Parker's eyes narrowed almost to pinpoints.

"Isn't that what you said when Jarod escaped?"

Raines looked as though he was about to blow a gasket. Parker glared at him for a moment longer before turning and storming from the room.

* * *

_tbc..._


	12. A Futile Exercise

A/N: _When I started this story, I had no intention of crossing it over with any other show. It was meant to be exclusively a CI/Pretender fic. However, it seems the good detectives from SVU have wormed their way into it. How much of a role they'll have to play further along remains to be seen._

_BTW, before any of you say it - yes, I know I'm a bitch. It's one of those facts of life, and I'm not apologising for it. I love my Bobby-whompage far too much._

* * *

Bobby awoke with a start, his breath catching painfully in his throat. For a long moment, he lay frozen, not knowing where he was. Then, slowly, realisation dawned that he was not inside the Centre, but lying on a soft patch of grass in what appeared to be a well-hidden culvert. He was surrounded by trees, and he could see the sun shining through the branches that stretched high above him.

Sunlight… He hadn't seen the sun in nearly two months. And the feel of cool grass beneath him… Bobby suddenly didn't know whether to laugh or cry. He was outside… He was _out_…

Slowly, aware that his head was still spinning a little, Bobby got to his feet. His memories of the previous night were sketchy at best, and all he really remembered were feelings. Feeling dizzy… confused… sick… frightened… Above all else, he remembered the nauseating feeling of sheer terror, and though he had no clear memories of the events that had resulted in him escaping, he knew without a doubt that Raines had been behind it.

But a new realisation hit, causing all thoughts of the sadistic Raines to fly from his mind. Escape… He'd escaped… He was free…

He was hit hard with a rush of excitement that he had to fight to stem the tide of. He could celebrate properly when he was home, but for now he had to display caution. He had to take it one step at a time, or he'd find himself right back where he started; and he knew without a doubt that if he was recaptured, then there would be no second chance. This was it – fly or fall. And he had no intention of falling.

Bobby paused to stretch. His limbs ached, and so did his back, but it was an ache he could cope with. As long as he remained free, he felt he could cope with just about anything. As he was stretching out his arms, though, he saw it; a single needle mark on the inside of his right forearm. And then, it all came rushing back.

Groaning, Bobby dropped back to his knees as he was overcome by the haunting memories of the hours he'd spent through the night struggling to overcome the effects of the hallucinogen that Raines had given him. It had been a frightening night, filled with nightmare images – monsters that all had the same face; the face of Dr William Raines.

But in the midst of the nightmares, there had been a saving grace, and that saving grace had borne the face of his partner and best friend, Alexandra Eames. Even though his rational mind knew it was a logistical and physical impossibility that she had been there with him, he still had very vivid memories of her presence throughout the terrifying night, and it had been that presence – real or not – which had given him the strength to hang on to his sanity.

Now, the mental effects of the drug had worn off, leaving him feeling physically sick, but he could deal with that. His priority now was to get to somewhere safe, where he could contact someone who could help him. Specifically, his captain, and his partner.

* * *

He soon accepted that he had no idea where he was, and that he was effectively walking blind through the trees. Although he'd managed to sleep off the most direct effects of the drug Raines had given him, he was still feeling dizzy, nauseous and mildly disoriented. More than once, he barely avoided smacking into a tree trunk, but he forced himself to keep walking. He stopped only once, and that was to take a much-needed drink of water at a little stream that he happened across.

He really did have no idea where he was, and he could only hope that he was walking away from the Centre, and not back towards it. And all the while, he had to struggle to tamp down on the elation he felt at being away from the god-awful place.

He figured it was perhaps ten in the morning when he wandered out of the woods and onto a road… almost straight into the path of an oncoming truck. The blast of the horn nearly frightened Bobby clean out of his skin. He stumbled backwards and fell, landing painfully on his back on the hard surface of the road. The truck skidded to a halt a short distance away, the door swung open and a very angry-looking driver climbed out.

"Hey!" he yelled. "Are you outta your fucking mind, buddy? You _trying_ to get yourself killed?"

Bobby tried to get up, but what little equilibrium he still had had been shattered by the fright of nearly being mowed down by a truck.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, suddenly having to try hard not to just throw up. The driver stopped, and stared at him suspiciously.

"Man, are you drunk?"

"No…" Bobby protested. "No… I'm not… Please… I need help. I'm a cop… I… I was abducted…"

Still, the truck driver hesitated.

"You got any ID on you, bud?"

Bobby looked up at him incredulously.

"Sure," he muttered. "They left that on me, right along with my service piece and my cell phone."

Finally, the driver moved, and crouched down beside him.

"Sorry. But it can't hurt to be too careful on these roads. Okay, bud, c'mon…"

Taking Bobby's arm, he helped him to his feet and over to the truck.

"In you get," he muttered, pushing the detective up into the cabin of the truck and then going around to get in the driver's side.

"Your CB," Bobby said hoarsely as he slumped against the door. "Can you get New York on that?"

"Sorry, bud. This thing's coverage won't go that far. I need to get it fixed, but until then, I'm lucky if I can reach the state border with it."

"Well… Can I… can I use your cell phone?"

"Don't have one. Don't like 'em. Look, I'll call the sheriff in the next town… What's your name?"

"Goren," Bobby mumbled. "I'm Detective Robert Goren… Major Case Squad, NYPD."

"Okay. I'll call the sheriff and he can get in touch with whoever you need him to. Man… you don't look so hot. What'd they do to you?"

"I was drugged," Bobby answered. He was suddenly having a lot of trouble staying awake.

"Looks like you got the crap beaten outta you, too," the driver observed ruefully as he caught a glimpse of the bruising on Bobby's arms. His observation went unnoticed – Bobby was already out.

* * *

When Bobby awoke again, the first thing he registered were bars. He lay still, staring blankly at them for a long moment before sitting up quickly to take in his surroundings. He was in a jail cell. It appeared to be reasonably clean, but it was still a jail cell.

Getting up slowly, to avoid causing his slowly recovering head too much grief, Bobby made his way over to the bars, and tried the door. Little surprise, it was locked. Groaning, Bobby slumped against the cage as he tried to think his situation through.

He was still trying to get his head around what had happened – the last thing he clearly remembered was nearly getting flattened by a damned big truck – when a tall, muscular man in a sheriff's uniform came around the corner.

"Welcome back to the land of the living," the sheriff commented dryly. Bobby looked up at him slowly.

"Why am I locked up?"

The sheriff smirked.

"Drunk and disorderly."

It was with effort that Bobby didn't groan.

"I wasn't drunk."

A moment later, Bobby gasped as the sheriff snatched hold of his right wrist and yanked his arm out, forcibly turning it over to reveal the needle mark.

"Well, maybe you were high, then. So which is it, boy? You a drunk? Or are you a junkie?"

Bobby glowered at the sheriff.

"You're willing to leap to the conclusion that someone's a junkie, based on one needle mark? How the hell did you ever make sheriff?"

"You watch your mouth. Just remember which side of the bars you're on."

Yanking his arm back, Bobby turned away and slumped against the bars, shutting his eyes and trying to regain some of his lost composure.

"I'm sorry. I'm just sick and tired of all of this. Look, that needle mark…? It was done against my will. I was drugged. I wasn't drunk, and I'm no junkie."

"Sure you're not. And you weren't stumbling around on a road, acting like an accident waiting to happen either, were you?"

"I told you, I was drugged," Bobby repeated, starting to feel desperate. "It only happened last night. The effects are still wearing off. I… I was disoriented."

"Uh huh."

"There's an explanation for all this," Bobby muttered, feeling his hopes start to plummet.

"Yeah, I got that story from Jack. Kidnapped cop, was it?"

Bobby raised his eyes to the sheriff's, and spoke in a slow, deliberate voice.

"Call Captain James Deakins at the Major Case Squad, eleventh floor of One Police Plaza in New York City. Tell him you have Bobby Goren in your custody. He'll confirm who I am."

The sheriff stared at him for several seconds before bursting into laughter.

"Boy, you nearly had me for a second, there. I _almost_ believed you. I gotta give you credit for creativity, though. Most of the drunks and the junkies I get in here aren't anywhere near as creative as you."

"I'm telling you the truth," Bobby insisted. "Just bring a phone, I'll dial the number for you!"

"Sure, and I bet it'll just be one of your buddies on the other end. Do I look like I was born yesterday? You want me to believe you? Then you'd better give me some proof before I start calling my fellow officers in the Big Apple."

Bobby sucked in a long breath.

"I was abducted from New York maybe two months ago by people from a place called the Centre. I escaped last night. Please… just bring me a phone? Please, all I want is to go home…"

He couldn't help it; the tears came in a flood as the stress overcame him. The sheriff watched him, his smirk fading.

"Damn, you really aren't kidding me, are you?"

"No," Bobby whispered as he walked back and sank down on the bunk, pressing his hands over his face. "I'm not kidding."

"The Centre, you say? I know that place. You really escaped from there last night?"

Bobby looked back up at him slowly.

"Yes. And the longer you keep me in here, the more likely they'll be to catch up to me. Please… call my captain?"

"All right," the sheriff murmured. "I'll call him, and check your story. What was his name again?"

"James Deakins. Call One Police Plaza in New York City, and ask for Captain James Deakins from the Major Case Squad."

"Okay. You just sit tight, and I'll go do that."

Bobby watched him disappear back around the corner before burying his face in his hands once more, and hardly daring to hope that maybe, just maybe, his ordeal might nearly be over.

* * *

Nearly twenty minutes later, the sheriff reappeared and, with a sheepish grin, unlocked the cell door to let Bobby out.

"Sorry, Detective. But you gotta admit, you don't exactly look like a cop. Anyway, I got a hold of your captain… He's not an easy guy to nail down! I got a hold of him, and he was pretty damned excited to find out you're here. He said he's organising a chopper and he'll be here himself in a couple of hours. Told me to treat you right, or I'll have to answer to him directly."

Bobby smiled wearily as he stepped out of the cell.

"It's okay. I'll just be glad to get home."

"You must have had one hell of a time, though. C'mon through to my office. We'll get you coffee… and something to eat."

"Coffee would be good," Bobby murmured gratefully. "I don't think I could eat anything, though."

"Well, just coffee, then. I suppose those bastards starved you?"

Bobby shuddered slightly.

"No… but I think it's safe to say I'm a lot lighter than I was a couple of months ago."

"Yeah, I'll bet," the sheriff murmured as he ushered Bobby into his office and bade him sit. "You make yourself comfortable, Detective, and I'll go get that coffee for you."

Bobby hesitated, an odd look flickering across his face.

"You said Captain Deakins was hard to get a hold of…?"

"Sure. Tried for nearly twenty minutes before he finally picked up. I told him I'd been trying to get through to him, and he apologised. Said he'd been taking a coffee break. But it's all fine, and he's on his way. You'll be home again before you know it."

Bobby turned away, his heart starting to pound in his chest as the office door closed. Deakins _never _took coffee breaks. It was one of the reasons he had the coffee machine in his office, so that he could get himself a cup without having to go more than two feet from his desk. And, he sure as hell wouldn't have taken a break that kept him away from his office for nearly twenty minutes.

If the excuse given had been that he'd been observing an interrogation, then maybe Bobby would have believed it, but he could not believe that Deakins' absence from his office was due to an extended coffee break.

Bobby shut his eyes, feeling a fresh wave of a nausea. The story didn't ring true, because it wasn't true. Because the sheriff hadn't called Deakins at all. Which meant…

He rose up a little, peering out through the slats of the blind that covered the window between the sheriff's office and the rest of the precinct. The sheriff was talking to his deputies in what could only be described as a conspiratorial manner.

_Fuck_, Bobby thought dismally. He had to get out of there. He had to get out of there _fast_.

Rising up out of the chair, but taking care to duck down to avoid being seen, Bobby slipped around the desk to the window that looked out onto what he guessed was a laneway of some sort. Wincing at the squeak as he opened the lock, he pushed the window up and climbed out.

His feet had barely hit the ground when he felt the familiar sensation of a gun pressing to the back of his skull, and a strong hand shoved him roughly against the brick wall.

"Well," Lyle's silky voice said in his ear, "I guess maybe you're not as smart as Jarod after all."

Bobby shut his eyes.

_No_… _Please, God, no_…

"That was really inconsiderate of you, Bobby," Lyle murmured as he patted him down quickly, searching for any hidden weapons. "Disappearing like that, and leaving us all to worry ourselves sick about you."

"I figured you'd get over it," Bobby mumbled. A moment later, he grunted as his wrists were yanked behind his back, and tied together.

"Ah, you underestimated how much we'd actually miss you. Now, move your ass, and maybe I won't decide to shoot out one of your knees after all."

"Fuck you, Lyle," Bobby spat. Lyle chuckled softly.

"Bobby, Bobby… Just because the Director gave orders for you to be brought back untouched… doesn't mean I'll obey them."

A moment later, Bobby grunted in pain as Lyle slammed the butt of his gun into the spot squarely between his shoulder blades, causing him to topple forward and mash his face against the brick wall of the building. Then, Lyle kicked his legs, causing his knees to buckle and sending him painfully to the ground. Lyle walked around, observing him thoughtfully before delivering a solid kick to his ribs that left Bobby choking and gasping for breath.

Lyle was just gearing up for another kick when another voice spoke.

"Do that again, you psychotic son of a bitch, and I'll shoot out _your_ knees."

Lyle scowled as Miss Parker walked over, her gun aimed directly at him.

"Hey, just teaching him a lesson, Parker."

"We were given strict orders not to mark him," she snapped. "Now, pick him up and bring him to the car. We need to get him back and clean him up before Sydney gets back tomorrow morning."

Lyle watched her stalk off, and shook his head in aggravation as he put his gun away and hauled Bobby unceremoniously to his feet.

"She's got a soft spot for you, all right," he muttered. "It's gonna get her in trouble." He glanced at Bobby, who was still struggling for breath. "All right, Houdini," he muttered. "Let's go."

* * *

"Put him in my car," Parker ordered. Lyle shot her a suspicious look.

"Why?"

"Just do it, moron," she snarled at him. Sighing and shaking his head, Lyle walked Bobby across to her waiting car, and pushed him in roughly.

"Careful!" Parker snapped when Bobby hit his head on the door frame as Lyle pushed him in.

"Oops," Lyle retorted. Glaring at her brother, she walked around to the other side and got in, slamming the door shut after her.

"I'm sorry," she murmured to Bobby as the car pulled away. "I can't untie your wrists. I can't risk you trying to get away."

He didn't answer, but instead slumped against the door in silence, his dirty face streaked with blood and tears.

"If Raines hadn't drugged you last night," she mused, "you probably would have been able to avoid us."

Still, he didn't answer. Parker watched him thoughtfully before pulling a handkerchief from her pocket and reaching over to press it gently to his head, where he'd banged it when Lyle shoved him into the car. He winced and tried to pull away from her, but he was already pushed hard against the door.

"Don't struggle," she ordered him. "Your head's bleeding."

"Who cares," Bobby muttered, twisting away from her. "Let it bleed."

Parker sighed and sat back.

"Sydney's going to be furious," she commented finally.

"That I escaped?"

"That Raines experimented on you. The Director's already pissed. Raines went deliberately against her orders. He's in some seriously deep shit."

Bobby looked back at her slowly.

"You think that's the only reason I ran? Because Raines used me as his own personal pin cushion? I would've gone anyway, the first chance I had. And I'll try again. I'll keep trying, until I'm free."

She looked at him sympathetically.

"Do you honestly believe you'll get that opportunity again? They won't trust you again, Bobby. You'll see. You won't be left alone for any reason. You won't get the chance to try and escape again."

Bobby slumped back in the seat, only to give a choked sob as the movement hurt his bound hands and wrists, and wrenched both his shoulders.

"Please," he whispered. "Can't you at least tie my hands in front of me?"

"I'm sorry," she whispered, suddenly fighting her own tears. "I can't."

He turned away from her, leaning against the window, watching the passing scenery through tear-blurred eyes as his freedom was stolen from him all over again.

* * *

Locked back in his room in the Centre, Bobby could only marvel at the futility of his efforts. Worse, though, was coming crashing down from the hope and exhilaration he'd so briefly experienced. For a short while, he had honestly believed he had a chance, and that was the worst of it. For just a little while, he'd been able to taste freedom, only to have it cruelly snatched away from him once more.

He knew Miss Parker was right. They would be watching him extra closely from this point on. There would be no second chances.

Lying down, Bobby rolled over onto his side, facing the wall. He'd be lucky now if they didn't insist on manacling him every time he left his room.

Shutting his eyes, Bobby strove to picture Alex's face in his mind, to try and ease his misery. It took some effort, much to his concern, but finally he arrived there at that place deep within the labyrinth of his own mind, where he was together with Alex once more. It was the only comfort he had left, and it was a cold comfort, but he would take whatever he could get.

A soft sigh escaped him as he let his mind all-too-briefly block out everything else. He stayed there, in silent communion with his memories until sleep finally came and took him.

* * *

_Monday morning  
__The Centre_

Sydney knew something had happened. The moment he walked into the Centre on Monday morning, he knew something had gone wrong. The atmosphere in the place was tense, unsettled… His gut tying itself up in knots, he hurried on to his office, and was not the least bit surprised to find Miss Parker already there, waiting for him. He paused in the doorway, looking at her apprehensively, and bracing himself for bad news.

"Your genius got out on Saturday night, Sydney," she told him quietly… calmly. Too calmly, Sydney thought. If Bobby had escaped, and was still on the loose, the entire place would have been in an absolute uproar, and Miss Parker wouldn't have been here, lounging in his chair. She would have been out with a full compliment of sweepers, searching for him.

"Bobby escaped?" he asked tentatively.

"That's right." She swung the chair around and stood up to face him. "He got out through the ventilation system. Sweepers are still looking for potential exits from the building, so there won't be a repeat performance."

Sydney drew in a long breath. His instincts told him that Bobby was back in the Centre, but the question was, where…?

"Where is he, Parker?" he asked, unable to keep the tension out of his voice. She smiled, but there was nothing pleasant in that smile.

"Relax, Sydney. He's back in his room, all safe and sound. But in all honesty, he might just have pulled it off… like Jarod did… if Raines hadn't doped him up with an untested hallucinogenic."

In the space of just a few seconds, Sydney went from shock to pure rage. Even Parker took a step back from him at the look on his face in that instant.

"That goddamned son of a bitch!" he exploded. Wheeling around, he grabbed a small bag off his desk, and all-but ran from his office.

* * *

Bobby hadn't moved from his bed since he'd been returned to it on Sunday morning. He lay still and silent, facing the wall and ignoring anyone who ventured into his room. He refused to eat anything at all. The rice and vegetables that had been brought for him the previous night had finally been taken away, and now the oatmeal that had been left for him for breakfast sat untouched on the table.

Sydney stood in the doorway, observing Bobby for nearly a minute before venturing all the way into the room.

"Bobby, I am so sorry," he apologised as he walked over and sat down next to the bed. Bobby stiffened slightly at his voice, but otherwise didn't move or speak.

"I suppose I can understand you being angry," he conceded. A strangled sound erupted from Bobby at that.

"You _suppose_? That's just great."

"What do you want me to say, Bobby?"

After a long moment, Bobby turned over to stare at him bitterly.

"You knew. You _knew_ he'd try something. Don't lie to me, Sydney."

"I had my suspicions, yes," Sydney confirmed.

"Then why?" Bobby choked out. "Why did you go away? Why did you leave me to him?"

"I'm sorry," Sydney whispered, but he made no attempt to explain the reasons for his absence. "Sit up, Bobby. Let me check you over."

Bobby turned away abruptly, closing in on himself once more.

"Go to hell, Sydney. Just… leave me alone."

"I can't do that," Sydney murmured. "Bobby, listen to me closely. I went to the Director before coming to see you. She's decided that you're not to be punished for escaping on Saturday night. She concedes that the trauma from Raines' experiment could be considered an extenuating reason for your actions. But if you refuse to cooperate with me now, she may lose patience, and simply hand you over to Raines to deal with."

Bobby didn't turn away from the wall as he spoke.

"Why am I suddenly finding it really difficult to believe you?"

Sydney hesitated, and then reached out to lay one hand lightly on Bobby's shoulder.

"Think about it carefully, Bobby. What other option do you have?"

* * *

"I have to hand it to you, Sydney," Miss Parker murmured as they watched Bobby work through a new simulation. "You recovered from that potential disaster quite nicely. I really didn't think you'd be able to get him back to doing tricks for you for a month, let alone within twenty-four hours."

"Nevertheless," Sydney said softly, "his trust in me has been severely damaged. I think he believes it was some sort of conspiracy between Raines and myself."

Parker looked bemused.

"You have to admit, it did seem a little convenient."

Sydney bristled visibly at the innuendo.

"I did _not_ conspire with Raines to test some drug on him! You know I don't agree with that, Parker!"

"Mm, well, good luck convincing _him_ of that."

Sydney watched her saunter from the room before sighing and turning back to Bobby. Little though he liked it, Parker was right. It would be extremely difficult to regain Bobby's trust after this. Even now, watching him from the little glassed-in observation deck that oversaw the sim room, Sydney could easily tell that Bobby's efforts were half-hearted. The taste of freedom he'd had so briefly had only served to renew the bitterness and anger he'd experienced so vividly upon his return to the Centre. He was still cooperating, but only under obvious duress. Sydney suspected it would not take much to push Bobby into completely shutting down, and if that happened…

He watched as Bobby finished the simulation and sat back, folding his arms in front of him and literally shrinking into himself. It appeared that he'd completed the simulation adequately, but displaying nowhere near the brilliance that Sydney knew he was capable of.

The doctor watched, and felt his hopes start to sink that Bobby might ever adjust to being under Centre control. That likelihood was rapidly sliding away, and Sydney suspected he would soon find himself in damage control, simply to keep the hierarchy from deciding Bobby was a lost cause as far as the simulations were concerned, and opting to hand him over to Raines.

If that were to happen, Sydney would seriously consider giving Bobby a weapon, and allowing him the opportunity he'd wished for on his first day back in the Centre – to take his own life and end his misery once and for all. Because if Raines were to get his hands on Bobby with the Centre's blessings, then his life really would be over.

Sighing inwardly, Sydney headed out of the observation deck to go down and talk the results of the simulation through with his charge.

* * *

Bobby's escapade didn't go unnoticed outside the walls of the Centre. Word of mouth has a way of getting around, despite the best of efforts to block it. In this instance, it was word of mouth via CB radio that carried the story of Bobby's escape and subsequent recapture to the borders of Delaware, and beyond.

The truck driver, Jack, went on his way, convinced by the Shell Creek sheriff that he'd intercepted a wanted fugitive, and had done the local area specifically, and his country in general, a favour. As he passed onto the Interstate, he radioed one of his buddies to tell him about the strange guy he'd picked up about ten miles west of Blue Cove. He relayed the guy's story about being a kidnapped cop with amusement, and then forgot about it.

The story passed on, though, from one trucker to the next until it finally reached the ears of a trucker named Ben who happened to be long-time buddies with a cop who used to be a Narc in the NYPD, and was now with the Special Victims Unit. He'd talked with his buddy only a couple of weeks ago, and that buddy had mentioned a friend of his with the Major Case Squad who had gone missing a month and a half ago.

The official story was the detective had suffered some sort of a breakdown, and had taken a sabbatical from work. The detective knew better, and had told him that the rumour was he'd been abducted right from within the supposedly secure walls of One Police Plaza, and that someone high up in the brass had engineered it. All rumours, nothing substantiated. A friend of a friend had poked around for information, only to be warned to keep their nose out of it.

More suspiciously, the Major Case Squad itself had closed ranks well and truly, and was now apparently operating on a whole new level that was one step away from out-right insubordination – and that action was being led by Captain James Deakins himself. Word was they were taking instructions only from the Commissioner with regard to the cases they caught, and not the Chief of Detectives. One story flying around was that the Chief of Detectives had ventured onto the eleventh floor to confront Deakins over the squad's behaviour and attitude, only to be literally driven off again by the positively frigidly hostile response from the detectives working there.

But that was all beside the point. This particular trucker had heard the stories, and knew the rumours as well as the official line, and he knew a name. So, when whispers of trucker Jack's story reached him, he immediately began probing, searching for more information.

Most other truckers he spoke to knew next to nothing, though plenty embellished the tale to pretend that they did. Eventually, though, about a week after first hearing the tale, Ben had a stroke of luck and caught up with Jack at a truck stop somewhere between Pennsylvania and New York. As he had done since first hearing the story, Ben mentioned it to Jack in the hope that this might be someone who knew more than just whispers of the rumours, and was delighted to find that he was talking to the very man that the story had originated from.

He probed for information, which Jack gave up reluctantly – as far as he was concerned, it was old news, and not worth the retelling.

"The guy never mentioned his name?" Ben asked, and Jack shrugged.

"Yeah, he did, but I don't remember it."

"C'mon, you pick up a guy that you nearly run over, he tells you he's a cop who's been kidnapped, and you don't remember?"

Jack shrugged.

"Well… I don't know… Oh… Hang on…Robert, he said. Robert… something. I don't remember his last name, but it was definitely Robert something."

"Goren?" Ben suggested. "Could it have been Robert Goren?"

"Hey, that's it!" Jack agreed. "That's what he said his name was. Real fruit loop, he was. Abducted, my ass. The guy looked stoned, and he was probably all beat up like that because he'd been wandering around in the friggin' woods, off his head on coke, or some shit like that."

"And you left him with cops in the next town you came to?"

"Yeah. They were real grateful, you know? Gave me a hundred in cash for delivering him to them. They said there was an APB, or something out on him. Hey… how'd you know his name?"

Ben stood up. He was feeling sick all of a sudden.

"Because the guy you picked up really was a cop, asshole. He's been missing for two months, and you pretty much ensured he got handed him back to the bastards that took him in the first place."

Jack's jaw dropped.

"Wh… What? You're shitting me…"

"Go back to your hundred dollar steak," Ben spat in disgust. "I've gotta go make a phone call."

* * *

_Special Victims Unit  
__Manhattan_

Fin Tutuola groaned aloud when the phone on his desk began to ring. It had been a hell of a long week, and he was seriously looking forward to getting home, changing and heading off the nearest bar to get drunk. For a moment he seriously considered ignoring it, but decided it wasn't worth the crap he'd get from Cragen. Snatching the phone off the hook, and ignoring the smirk from his partner, John Munch, he answered the call sharply.

"Fin."

"_Hey, Fin, it's Ben Jeffers._"

Relief swamped Fin. If it was his buddy Ben, then it wouldn't be work related. Relaxing visibly, he stretched back in his chair and propped his feet up on his desk.

"Hey, Ben, how's it going? You in town, buddy?"

"_Nah, man, I'm in some little shithole town in Pennsylvania at the moment. Listen, I've got some news for you. I don't know whether it's gonna help any or not, but it's about that pal of yours_…_ the one who's missing._"

Fin sat bolt upright, attracting the attention not only of his partner, but also of Elliot Stabler and Olivia Benson, who had been walking past at the time.

"You heard something about Bobby Goren? What? What'd you hear?"

"_I just finished talking to a guy who told me about a guy that he picked up about ten miles west of a little town called Blue Cove, in Delaware. Said the guy stumbled out onto the road in front of him, and he damn near ran him down. Anyway, the guy tells him that he's a cop, and that he'd been abducted a couple of months ago. So he picks the guy up and puts him in his truck, but he doesn't call his captain in New York like the guy wants him to. Instead, he takes him to the next town, Shell Creek, and hands him over to the cops there. And the cops tell him the guy's a wanted fugitive, or some shit like that. They give him a hundred bucks and send him on his way. But before he handed him over to the cops, the guy told him that his name was Robert Goren, he was an NYPD cop, he'd been kidnapped a couple of months ago, and that he escaped from a place called the Centre._"

Fin felt sick.

"And wherever this place is that he escaped from, he's probably back there now."

"_Yeah, well, I only heard the story for the first time a few days after it supposedly happened, and then I didn't track down the guy who actually found your friend for another week. So it is kinda old news. I'm sorry, Fin. I can't even tell you where this Centre place is. I looked up Blue Cove, but it ain't on any map I've got._"

"Did the guy say how Bobby looked?" Fin asked, struggling to suppress his disappointment.

"_Not so hot, by the sounds of it. He said he looked like he'd taken a pretty bad beating_..._ and maybe more than one, at that. Although he just passed it off as the result of wandering around the woods on drugs._"

"Okay, Ben. Thanks. And if you hear anything else…?"

"_I'll be sure to let you know. Talk to you later, bud._"

Fin hung up, and looked around at his colleagues.

"Was that about Bobby Goren, from Major Case?" Olivia wondered, and Fin nodded.

"Yeah. A truckie picked up a guy nearly two weeks ago in Delaware who identified himself as Bobby. Apparently Bobby asked him to contact Captain Deakins, but the guy handed him over to the cops in the next town instead. They gave some bullshit story about him being a wanted fugitive, gave the truckie a hundred bucks and told him to get lost."

"So where is Goren now, then?" Elliot asked. Fin shrugged.

"Who knows? Apparently Bobby told the truckie that he'd been kidnapped two months ago, and that he escaped from a place called the Centre. Maybe whatever the Centre is, that's where Bobby was taken back to."

Munch snorted derisively.

"Sounds like the guy checked himself into the funny farm, and then decided he didn't like it."

Fin glowered at him.

"Watch it, John. Bobby might be outside the box, but he ain't crazy."

Elliot clapped Munch on the shoulder.

"Fin's right. Goren has an off-the-wall rep, but that whole breakdown and sabbatical story? I'm sorry, but that is total bullshit. Fin, how about you and I take a run to One Police Plaza? We'll tell this to Deakins, and see what he has to say about it."

Fin nodded, and launched himself out of his chair, grabbing his jacket.

"Let's go."

* * *

Mike Logan was the only detective in the bullpen when Fin and Elliot arrived. All the other on-duty detectives were currently out on jobs, while Carolyn had taken Alex out to lunch. He'd declined to join them, despite a warm enough invite from both women. Carolyn had even offered to buy him a steak, and he hadn't missed the concern in their eyes when he'd quietly refused. In the end, they'd gone without him, but Carolyn had insisted that he let her bring him back a steak sandwich. He'd conceded, if only to get her off his case.

The truth was that he just didn't feel like food. He used to eat, and enjoy what he ate. Lately, though, he ate just enough to ensure he stayed healthy, and to keep up his energy. He didn't care what he ate. Food was food. If it went in his mouth, good enough.

"You should have gone with Alex and Carolyn, Mike."

He looked up as Deakins wandered over to his desk. The captain looked horribly tired, Mike thought dismally. Like he'd aged twenty years in the last couple of months. He bit back a sigh. They all looked like it, and felt even worse.

"Any news?" he asked softly, deliberately keeping his voice low even though there was no one else around right then to hear. Deakins shook his head.

"Nothing more. Jarod said he was heading to Iran to find that friend of his, and that he'd let us know what was happening then. It could be another month or two before we hear from him again."

"This is killing Alex," Mike said with a heavy sigh. He glanced up at Deakins. "And you don't look so hot either, Captain."

"None of us look like we're on fire at the moment," Deakins pointed out. "The whole squad is flat, and it's starting to show in our stats. The Commissioner is starting to ask some pretty hairy questions… like why we won't take orders from Harris."

"Fuck Harris," Mike muttered sourly. "He sold Bobby out. Fuck him."

Deakins nodded placidly.

"That attitude, right there. That's what he wants an explanation for. And I can't give him one. If I tried, he'd probably have me locked up in a psych ward next to Frances Goren."

Mike scrubbed his hands over his face, and abandoned any pretence of doing paperwork.

"I won't kiss ass to Harris just to please the Commissioner, Captain. Neither will anyone else here. They're all too pissed at Harris over what he did to Bobby. I'm telling you, Captain, when Jarod finally comes back, the whole damn squad is going to want in on the rescue."

Deakins smiled wryly, but before he had a chance to reply, two men strode around the corner and into the bullpen.

"Elliot Stabler and Fin Tutuola?" Mike murmured. "What are they doing here?"

Deakins took a single step around Mike's desk as the two SVU detectives approached.

"Is there something I can do for you gentlemen?"

Fin and Elliot exchanged wry looks. They knew that detached tone all too well. It was the same tone their captain used when he was confronted with someone that he really didn't want to deal with.

"Captain Deakins, we're here about Bobby Goren," Elliot started to say, but Deakins cut him off abruptly.

"Detective Goren has taken an extended sabbatical for personal reasons. I don't know when he'll be returning to work. Now, if you'll excuse me, detectives, I have work to do."

He turned and started to walk back to his office.

"He escaped from the Centre," Fin called out, and Deakins froze. For several long seconds, the captain never moved an inch. Then, finally, he turned slowly back to the two men. Mike, too, had risen out of his seat and was staring at them in shock.

"What did you just say, Detective Tutuola?" Deakins asked softly. Fin steeled himself, and said it again.

"I said, Bobby escaped from the Centre."

"All right," Deakins said tensely. "You have my attention. Talk. Quickly."

Fin rapidly described the phone call he'd received from his friend, leaving nothing out. Deakins listened, grey-faced, as he spoke.

"He got away…" Mike whispered when Fin finished speaking. "Bobby got away from them…"

"And got picked up by someone who put him right back in their hands," Deakins concluded bitterly. "Son of a bitch…"

"So…" Elliot ventured. "The sabbatical story…?"

"It's a cover, Detective Stabler," Deakins said shortly. "Primarily to keep Bobby's position in the squad secure. We still hold hopes of rescuing him, and bringing him home. When… not if, but _when_ that happens, I want there to be a job for him to come back to."

"So, he really was kidnapped," Fin said hoarsely.

"Nearly two and a half months ago, now," Mike answered as he sank back into his seat. "Right from inside the Chief of D's office. That son of a bitch Harris sold Bobby out for a tidy little pay packet."

"Enough, Mike," Deakins growled. "We don't know why Harris did what he did. We may never know the truth. It's pointless to speculate."

"And this Centre…?" Elliot wondered.

"It's a secretive, privately funded organisation," Deakins explained. "It's based in a town called Blue Cove, in Delaware. Except, somehow Blue Cove has never made it on to any map."

"So, you _are_ planning to get him out of there, right?" Elliot pressed. "We're gonna find this place, and get him out, aren't we?"

Deakins raised an eyebrow at him.

"_We_, Detective?"

"You don't think you can leave us out of this, now we know what the real deal is, do you?" Elliot asked, and there was no amusement in his voice or face as he spoke. "A brother is in trouble. If we can help…"

"If you want to help," Deakins cut him off, "then you'll act like you _don't_ know what's really happening. We've already told you that Bobby was betrayed by Chief Harris. We have no way of knowing how far up the ladder this goes… No way of knowing how many of the brass are in the pocket of this organisation. At the moment, nothing is certain, and we can't take any chances, because it may get Bobby killed."

"And we already fucked up once," Mike said bitterly. "We aren't taking anymore chances."

"So… isn't there _anything_ we can do?" Fin asked, a hint of desperation in his voice. "Bobby's my friend, Captain. I want to help."

Deakins nodded, sympathy in his eyes.

"I understand, Detective. But all I can offer right now is to promise that I'll call for you when the time comes."

"You're planning something, aren't you?" Elliot asked softly, and Deakins answered with the slightest of nods.

"Yes," he said simply, deciding not to waste time on elaborations that would require more details explanations. "That's all you need to know right now. Yes, something is being planned. We don't know how long it's going to take, but if you honestly want to help, then I'll contact you when it's the right time."

"Okay," Fin conceded finally, reluctantly. "Thankyou, sir."

* * *

"He escaped," Mike said hoarsely after Fin and Elliot had gone. "He actually escaped… Although, fat lot of good it did him."

Deakins nodded grimly. "They'll probably watch him more closely than ever, now. Damn it… If I ever get my hands on the cops who handed him back to the Centre, I may just shoot them myself."

"Captain, maybe we'd better not mention this to Alex and Carolyn," Mike suggested. "It's only going to cause more hurt… for Alex, especially."

That made sense to Deakins, and he nodded in answer.

"I think you're right, Mike. Okay. Let's keep it between us." He paused, looking around the empty squad room and, inadvertently, to Bobby's empty desk. Everything on that desk was just as it had been at the time of his abduction, and Alex Eames had assumed the role of guarding it to make sure it stayed that way.

A week after Bobby's abduction, some poor fool had made the mistake of grabbing a pen from the desk as he walked past, and Alex had flown into a temper that had the poor guy throwing the pen back at the desk and running for his life. No one had dared touch anything since.

Deakins shut his eyes against the sudden wave of nausea and misery. All of a sudden, he wanted nothing more than to get the hell out of there.

"Mike, grab your coat."

Mike looked up in surprise.

"Where are we going?"

"To that sushi place you keep raving about to Alex and Carolyn. I need food and so do you."

"Carolyn said she was bringing me back a sandwich. I'll split it with you, if you want…"

"Get up off your ass and move, Detective. I need to get the hell out of this building, and I'm not leaving you here on your own."

Mike put on a wounded look as he stood and grabbed his coat.

"You don't trust me on my own? I'm crushed."

"Oh, I trust _you_," Deakins said ruefully as they headed out together. "It's _me_ that I don't trust."

* * *

_tbc..._


	13. Planning the Rescue

_A/N: For those who have been looking forward to detailed accounts of Bobby's suffering in the Centre, I promise you that I haven't decided against elaborating. There will be plenty of that later on, but it will be told more in flash-back sequence rather than as something that is happening in the present._

* * *

_Six months later_

Alex paused for a moment to compose herself before heading around into the Major Case bullpen. Every day, it was the same. She'd arrive at work, and then have to wait a couple of minutes by the elevator to compose herself. It was the only way she could keep from just breaking down each time she walked into the bullpen and laid eyes on his empty desk.

Eight and a half months. That's how long it had been since Bobby had been abducted by the Centre. At the beginning of the ordeal, she'd kept herself going by telling herself that Jarod would be back any day, with a plan to get Bobby out. As the months pass, though, and all they got was intermittent phone calls giving them vague progress reports, Alex stopped telling herself that. Instead, she began telling herself that it would get easier with every day that passed. She told herself it would hurt less each day to walk into the bullpen and see his desk. To see his empty chair, and the unused space that had been his on the coat rack.

She kept telling herself that, but deep down she knew she was lying to herself. So far, time hadn't done anything to dim the hurt. Instead, if anything, the pain was worse than ever.

She'd stayed true to her promise, and had refused to take on another partner, even on a temporary basis. As a result, she had been restricted to assisting Mike and Carolyn with their cases over the eight months that Bobby had been missing, and her own solve rate had fallen severely.

She didn't care.

Deakins had raised the possibility of a temporary partner once, early on, and she had flatly refused. Bobby was her partner. No one else would be acceptable to her. She knew without question that the captain's own guilt would not allow him to either force her into accepting a new partner, putting her on indefinite desk duty or, worse, transferring her out of the squad altogether. His conscience wouldn't allow it, and she shamelessly took full advantage of that.

And so he'd conceded to her without argument, and the next day he'd assigned her to work with Mike and Carolyn indefinitely. The Chief of Detectives had squawked once, very briefly over it. Deakins had gone up to his office, his face blacker than a thundercloud. He'd come back down again looking almost smug, and Harris had not had another word to say about the situation.

The Commissioner was another matter entirely, but so far Deakins had successfully run interference between him and the rest of the squad, keeping them well-shielded from any backlash.

Now, eight months down the track, a tiny part of Alex was finally beginning to wonder whether it was time to accept that Bobby was gone, and that he wasn't coming back.

Alex sucked in a long breath, and furiously blinked back the threat of tears. No, she wasn't going to accept that. Bobby was _not_ dead, and he _was_ coming back. Squaring her jaw, and her shoulders, Alex marched around the corner and into the bullpen.

* * *

The first thing she noticed was the unnatural quiet. There was barely a sound to be heard in the bullpen and, to add to the mystery, the door of Deakins' office was closed and the shades were all pulled.

"Who died?" Alex asked dryly as she came to a halt alongside Mike and Carolyn's adjoined desks. Mike grimaced.

"Commissioner Adkins is in there. And he brought Chief Harris with him."

Alex's face darkened considerably at the mention of the Chief of Detectives.

"Really."

"I think the Commissioner's finally lost patience with the squad," Carolyn murmured. "The last thing we heard before Deakins shut the door was Adkins saying it was going end here and now, one way or another."

"Good luck to him," Alex snorted as she headed to her own desk.

"He wasn't kidding, Alex," Mike warned her. "He really was pissed off."

Alex looked back at Mike, her eyes glinting.

"Harris won't want to drop Deakins and the rest of us in it too quickly, because if he does, then he might find himself in a very uncomfortable position. Especially if Deakins decides to tell Adkins the real reason for this stand-off. If I was Harris, I'd be trying to get my ass out of there as fast as possible, _before_ the truth comes out."

* * *

Inside Deakins' office, the tension was palpable as Commissioner Gerald Adkins tried to broker a truce between Deakins and Harris. So far, neither man was giving an inch toward the other. What was really curious to Adkins, though, was that of the two of them, Deakins was very clearly in the dominant position. Harris had hardly spoken a word since walking into Deakins' office; indeed, he seemed almost frightened of the Major Case captain.

For his part, Adkins would have rather brought both men to his office for this show-down. He had actually tried to, but somehow word had gotten to Deakins that Harris would be there, and the captain had flatly refused to turn up. In the end, Adkins had folded and had opted to take a sullen and recalcitrant Harris to the eleventh floor to confront Deakins on his own turf.

He was starting to think that had been a very big mistake.

"This is ridiculous," he fumed, glaring from Deakins to Harris. "I feel like I'm negotiating a schoolyard fight! What is it going to take to get you two clowns to put an end to this… whatever the hell it is!"

"This isn't just between Chief Harris and myself," Deakins said coolly. "This is an issue between him and my entire squad."

"And what issue is that, Jim? Would you care to enlighten me?"

Deakins turned his steely gaze on Harris.

"How about it, Chief?" he asked, his tone bordering on contemptuous. "Would you like to enlighten Commissioner Adkins?"

Harris shifted uncomfortably, and would not meet either of their stares.

"It's a private matter, Commissioner."

"The hell it is!" Adkins exploded. "When it affects the solve rate of one of the most effective squads in the NYPD, then it stops being personal and starts being my business! Now, I want to know what the hell this is about, and I want to know now!"

Silence met his demand. Deakins regarded him almost placidly before looking to Harris.

"Would you like to, or should I?"

Harris shot Deakins a dangerous look, but said nothing. Deakins nodded.

"Fine. I will, then. Commissioner, this dispute is to do with one of my detectives, Robert Goren."

"What about him? You submitted paperwork for him to take a sabbatical."

"I lied. He's not on sabbatical."

Adkins blinked, not sure which admission to be more stunned by – that Deakins had lied, or that Goren wasn't on sabbatical after all.

"Okay," he said finally, frowning deeply. "I'll deal with why you lied about it later. If Goren isn't on sabbatical, then where the hell is he?"

Deakins looked back at Harris.

"That, Commissioner, is the million dollar question."

Adkins was taken aback for a second time.

"Let me get this straight… You _lied_ for one of your detectives… but you don't even know where he is? Tell me that hasn't been the case for the last eight months, please!"

"That's been exactly the case, Commissioner."

"Jim… this goes way past insubordination!"

"Goren's in trouble, Commissioner."

"Yes, he is!" Adkins burst out. "And so are you! How dare you cover up for someone like this!"

Deakins sat forward, and spoke in a deliberately slow voice.

"Goren didn't just take off, Commissioner. He was abducted."

Adkins faltered.

"Abducted?"

"Yes. From right inside this very building. He was abducted, and has been missing ever since."

"And… what, you thought you'd keep it a squad secret? Jesus, Jim! You should have notified the proper channels! You should have come to me! Why the hell didn't you?"

"Because I didn't know who I could trust," Deakins snapped. "It's not as cut and dried as it sounds, Commissioner. We know who has Goren, but we don't know where. And we didn't dare do anything in case it got him killed."

Adkins sat in silence, trying to digest what he'd just been told. It seemed ludicrous, but the look on Deakins' face was deadly serious.

"All right," he said finally. "Let's say I believe you. Why the ongoing feud with Harris? You should have turned to him for help as soon as this happened!"

Deakins paused in answering. He regarded Harris thoughtfully who, in turn, was staring at him with an expression on his face akin to pure panic. Finally, Deakins leaned across and pulled a video tape from the top drawer of his desk, and handed it to Adkins.

"What is this?" Adkins asked with a frown.

"That is security tape footage, from the camera in Chief Harris' office. It's from the day that Goren was abducted. I think you'll find it very eye-opening."

"Deakins, you didn't…" Harris choked out, his face going red, and then purple. Deakins glared at him.

"Don't talk to me, you son of a bitch. Don't you dare."

Adkins was still staring at the tape in his hands, acutely aware of Harris' panicked reaction to it, when Deakins' cell phone rang. The captain answered the call, unsure whether or not to be grateful for the interruption.

"Deakins."

Even as Adkins and Harris watched, Deakins' demeanour changed dramatically. He stiffened visibly in his chair, and then leant forward, snatching a sticky note from the pad and scribbling frantically on it.

"Yes… Yes, I got it. Yes… All right, we'll be there in half an hour." Ending the call, Deakins all but launched himself out of his chair and snatched his jacket off its hook. "Look at the tape, Commissioner. Use our video room. Then you'll understand why my squad will no longer work with Harris."

"Jim…" Adkins started to say, but Deakins cut him off.

"Just look at the tape, Commissioner. You'll understand once you've seen it."

"Well, where the hell are you going?" he demanded to know. Deakins didn't look back as he strode out into the bullpen.

"To meet with someone. Eames! Logan, Barek! With me!"

The three detectives sprang to action, grabbing their respective jackets and falling into step behind their captain.

"Captain?" Mike asked as they headed around to the elevators. "What's going on?"

Deakins glanced around, and none of them missed the renewed spark in his eyes as he uttered the words that they had been waiting to hear for eight and a half long months.

"Jarod's back."

* * *

Not another word was spoken by any of them until they were in Deakins' car. Then, and only then, did the captain explain.

"Jarod phoned me. Told me that we're to meet him at The Blue Dog Tavern in Queens."

"And that's all he said?" Carolyn asked.

"No. He said one other thing. He said it's time."

"So, where the hell has he been?" Alex asked in a strained voice. "He said it might take three or four months. It's been eight and a half!"

"He didn't say, and I didn't take the time to ask," Deakins told her. "He came back, Alex. Right now, that's all I'm focusing on."

Alex didn't say anymore, but the look on her face told them all she wasn't done with the subject, not by a long shot.

* * *

On arrival at the tavern, they were promptly escorted through to a private room, where Jarod was waiting with two men, one of whom looked very familiar to Deakins. Jarod greeted them soberly, profusely apologising for the amount of time it had taken him to get back to them.

"That's not Jarod's fault, though," one of the other two men jumped in to explain. "It took him nearly five months to track down me and my boys."

"This is Commander Dan Ellis," Jarod introduced. "He's a Navy SEAL. He's put together a team of SEALs that specialise in high risk rescues."

Ellis nodded in confirmation of Jarod's words.

"Jarod's apprised us fully of the situation. I promise you, if anyone can get your boy out of that place, it's us."

Mike opened his mouth to speak, but Ellis cut him off.

"We'll get him out, _alive_."

Placated, Mike nodded and fell back. Deakins glanced wryly at the detective, and then turned his attention to the other man, frowning a little as he tried to place the man's face.

"I know you," he said. The man nodded, coming forward to shake hands with Deakins.

"I dare say you do, Captain Deakins. My name is Charles, and it was me that you brought Bobby to all those years ago after Catherine Parker got him out of the Centre." He paused throwing an affectionate and proud look at Jarod. "And I'm _his_ father."

Recognition dawned in Deakins' eyes, and he nodded in acknowledgement.

"Back for round two?" he asked, and Charles smiled grimly, determination written all over his craggy features.

"Something like that. We're going to get Bobby out of there, I guarantee it. And the Centre is going to be taught a lesson that it will never forget."

* * *

"Okay, here's the situation as it currently stands," Jarod said quietly a short while later. "Dan has put together a team of twenty men, but we're short the number we need. We're short by six to ten men."

"I recruited everyone that I knew I could personally trust," Ellis explained. "But we're short of the mark. I'd prefer to go into this with at least ten more guys; six more at the absolute minimum. If you know where we could find that number, Captain Deakins, then I for one would be immensely grateful."

Deakins looked around at his detectives, and then back to Ellis.

"You've got four more right here, Commander Ellis."

"Yeah," Mike agreed heatedly. "Don't even think of leaving us behind."

Rather than protesting, as they'd expected him to, Ellis chuckled and nodded.

"Relax. Jarod had already warned me that none of you would be willing to sit it out. So, that's four more. Any idea where we might find another five or six men?"

"Jackson and Oliver would be good guys to have on board," Deakins mused. "I'll speak to them when we get back. And… I think I know where to find at least two other men."

Ellis nodded.

"Twenty-nine. Good enough. We'll go into the finer details of the operation when we have everyone together."

Alex spoke up, then, her voice audibly strained.

"How is Bobby? Do you know?"

Jarod looked over at her, and the pain in his expression was brutally obvious.

"It's not good. A contact got some information out to me, along with a few sim discs. Apparently, Bobby was placed completely in Raines' control a month or so ago. The experiments he's been conducting on Bobby have been unspeakable. It's one of the reasons we're moving now. If we don't get him out of there soon, it may end up being too late."

"Please, tell us someone's going to put a bullet in that son of a bitch's head?" Alex asked hoarsely.

"Because if you don't, then we will," Mike added. Charles nodded soothingly.

"Believe me, if the opportunity presents itself, I'll cheerfully pull the trigger myself. But that is not what this operation is about. We are going in there to get Bobby out. That is our singular objective. Not retribution."

"Oh?" Carolyn wondered. "Then what's the lesson that you said the Centre is going to be taught?"

"We're going to level the whole damn place," Ellis told them bluntly. "Our priority is getting Bobby out, but a team of my men will be going in prior to when we actually execute the rescue, and planting explosives at strategic points. Once we get Bobby out, we'll give them due warning, let them evacuate, and then blow the place into the next millennium."

"Why should we give them warning?" Alex asked bitterly. Jarod threw a warning frown in her direction.

"There are innocent people in that building, Detective Eames. Children, in particular. They don't deserve to die, and if it means giving the likes of Raines and Lyle the opportunity to escape, then so be it."

Deakins nodded in agreement.

"Fine. You do what you need to do. That side of it isn't our concern, anyway."

Mike, however, grunted in objection.

"The hell it's not! We get Bobby out? Great. But then, what's to stop them from coming after him again? And we all know damned well that they will. I say we find everyone who had a hand in putting Bobby back in that place, and kill every last one of them. If that doesn't send a message, then I don't know what will."

"Mike, just settle down," Deakins warned him. "We are not carrying out a vendetta here. Our priority is rescuing Bobby, and then making sure that he stays safe. When he's recovered, then we can focus on the long-term situation. But we are _not_ summarily executing _anyone_. That is not how we operate!"

Mike fell silent, a distinctly sullen look on his face. Deakins continued to watch him for a moment longer before returning his attention to Jarod and Ellis.

"All right. What's our next step?"

"Get us those extra men," Ellis told him. "Then, we'll bring everyone together, and plan it out fully. I want us to be ready to move within a week."

"What about afterwards?" Alex asked suddenly, drawing puzzled looks from all around her.

"Afterwards?" Ellis echoed questioningly. She nodded, and looked over at Jarod.

"After we get Bobby out, what's going to happen? We can't bring him back here. They'll just come for him again. And even if they didn't… he's probably not going to be in a completely sound state of mind, is he?"

"You are right," Charles conceded quietly. "On all counts. To answer your first question, no. We can't bring him back to New York. Not straight away. There's a place in Canada, where my wife and daughter are currently living. Bobby will be safe there. It's well-protected, and he'll have all the time he needs to recover."

"So… basically, you're going to take him away from us again," Alex said in a trembling voice.

"That's not the plan, Detective Eames," Jarod told her quietly. He looked at her, and then at Mike, Carolyn and Deakins. "Once we get Bobby out of the Centre, you aren't just going to be able to come back to your own jobs… your regular lives."

"What are you saying?" Mike asked, frowning.

"I'm saying," Jarod answered grimly, "that whether or not you assist directly in this rescue, when we take Bobby to the place in Canada, the four of you are going to have to come, as well."

Startled silence met the statement. Charles glanced at his son, and then spoke quietly.

"The Centre knows all of you. They know you're the closest ones to Bobby. They will be searching for him, and you four will be prime targets for them to try and lure him back."

Deakins grimaced, recalling with reluctance what had happened in Harris' office eight months ago. Bobby had effectively surrendered to Raines and Lyle to keep him from being killed. Charles was right. They could not risk that same situation happening again.

"What about the people we recruit to help?" he asked finally.

"It's just the four of you that the Centre is likely to go after," Charles answered. "Anyone you bring to this operation won't be known by them. It's you four that the Centre will try to use to get Bobby back."

"And what about our families?" Deakins asked, thinking about his wife and daughters. "Won't they be at risk, too?"

"If there's somewhere you can send them," Jarod said, "then do it. At least for the next two or three months. I don't believe the Centre would try to use them if you're not in contact with them, but we can't take any chances. That friend of Bobby's…"

"Lewis?" Alex said, and Jarod nodded.

"Yes. We need to send him out of the city, too. They tried to use him before. They possibly will try again."

"And what about us?" Carolyn asked. "How long are we supposed to stay in hiding?"

"As long as it takes to find a way to stop the Centre from going after Bobby again," Jarod said simply. "But the other side of it is that he is going to need a lot of help. Wherever we take him, there needs to be familiar faces. He's going to need your support like never before."

Alex met his gaze with a determined one of her own. She had already made up her mind, before Jarod presented his final argument.

"Count me in."

Deakins nodded his agreement. It would hurt to be separated from his family, but he owed it to Bobby to do all he could to help him.

"I'm in, too."

"Same," Mike agreed, without hesitation. Carolyn, however, did hesitate.

"Carolyn?" Alex asked softly, and the distress on the other woman's face was all too obvious.

"I… I don't know if I can… I mean… I want to help Bobby, I really do. But I don't know…"

She gasped a little as Mike stepped into her line of sight, taking hold her shoulders in a firm grip.

"It's okay," he told her gently once her gaze settled on him. "If it's too much for you, we'll understand that. We won't push you into doing anything you don't believe you can do. None of us are going to think less of you for it. Okay?"

Carolyn stared up at him for a long moment before her eyes slid across to Alex. Rather than the anger and condemnation she expected to see, there was instead a sad understanding.

"Mike's right," Alex said softly. "If you can't do it, then it's okay." She paused, and a weak smile touched her lips. "No emotional blackmail, I promise."

Carolyn shuddered and fell against Mike, crying softly into his jacket.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice muffled. Mike hugged her fiercely, deciding he didn't care if Deakins read anything more into it than what it was.

"It's okay, honey," he murmured. "It's okay."

Slowly gaining control over herself once more, Carolyn pulled back, rubbing at her eyes.

"Do you want out?" Ellis asked, watching her piercingly. Carolyn was silent for a long moment before shaking her head and speaking with forced calm.

"No. I don't. I'm in."

Alex walked over, and hugged her tightly.

"Thankyou. Thankyou so much, Carolyn."

"Okay," Ellis said, satisfied. "I suggest you go back to work, finish off the day, and then tonight start making whatever preparations you need to make, for yourselves _and_ your families. Captain Deakins, the sooner you can find that extra manpower, the better."

Deakins nodded as they all stood up.

"Three of them I can pretty much guarantee. The other two may take a little more effort to secure." He looked around at Jarod. "I may need your help to convince their CO that I'm not out of my mind."

Jarod nodded in acquiescence.

"I'll come with you back to One Police Plaza."

"No, not there," Deakins murmured. "I'll come with you… Mike, you too. Alex and Carolyn, you two head back to 1PP, and talk to Jackson, Oliver and King. Make sure you fill them in completely."

"What about us?" Mike wondered. "Where are we going?" But even as he asked, realisation dawned and was confirmed by the familiar glint in Deakins' eyes.

"We're going to see an old friend of yours, Mike. We're going to SVU."

* * *

_SVU_

Elliot saw them coming first, and his initial instinct was purely territorial. SVU had caught a case, potentially high profile, and Major Case was coming to take it over. Before he had a chance to feel any anger, though, a memory hit from six months ago. He remembered standing with Fin in the Major Case squad room, and listening to Deakins and Logan tell a disturbing tale about the betrayal of one of their own…

One returning to SVU that day, Elliot and Fin had told their colleagues what they'd learnt. Olivia had listened, but the scepticism had been all too clear on her face. She hadn't really believed that anyone could get away with abducting a high-profile detective right out from within the walls of the most secure police facility in New York City.

Munch, on the other hand, had been acting even more oddly than usual on their return, and had started asking questions about the place where Bobby was supposedly being held, questions that he and Fin had no answers for. Finally, he'd excused himself from their company, made a quick phone call and then announced he was going out for lunch, and literally bolted from the bullpen.

When he returned, none of them had an ounce of luck getting him to talk, but the look of worry and trepidation on his face for the rest of that day could not be ignored. And then, every so often afterwards, he would approach Elliot or Fin on the quiet and ask them whether they'd heard anything more from Deakins.

Shaking himself out of his reverie, Elliot leaned over and hissed at his colleague.

"Fin! Look who's here."

Fin looked, and his eyes widened a little at the sight of Jim Deakins and Mike Logan striding into the bullpen.

"You thinking what I'm thinking?" Elliot asked, but Olivia spoke derisively before Fin had a chance to.

"Please, Elliot, we probably just caught a case that they think should be theirs. Get back to work, will you? I, for one, would really like to get this paperwork done before midnight."

Elliot frowned, but a shadow falling across his desk caught his attention before he could respond. Looking up, he was mildly startled to find Deakins standing there.

"Detective Stabler," Deakins greeted him. "Would you and Detective Tutuola please accompany me to your captain's office?"

Elliot sucked in a sharp breath.

"Now?"

He wasn't talking about going in to see Cragen, and Deakins knew it.

"Yes," the captain confirmed. "It's now, Detective, and we need your help."

Ignoring the glare he was getting from Olivia, Elliot launched himself to his feet.

"Fin?"

But Fin was already up, a hardened look on his face.

"Let's go."

* * *

"What the hell is all that about?" Olivia growled. Mike, who had remained behind by pre-arrangement to keep a look-out, glanced at her in surprise.

"You mean they didn't tell you what was going on after they came to see Deakins six months ago about Bobby Goren?"

"That whole kidnapped scenario?" Olivia retorted. "Don't tell me you believe that nonsense, Logan?"

Mike stared at her hard.

"As a matter of fact, I do. Obviously, you don't."

"You have to admit, it's a little hard to swallow," she argued. "How do you know he didn't just have a breakdown, and take off?"

Mike leaned over her desk, and spoke slowly and deliberately.

"The day Bobby disappeared, he'd gone to the Chief of Detectives' office with Deakins. Apparently the Chief wanted to speak to Bobby personally about the way he'd dealt with a witness. Twenty minutes later, Deakins came back to the eleventh floor, bleeding from the head and with a severe concussion from being king-hit. Bobby was gone."

"Goren attacked him?" Olivia asked incredulously. Disgust flashed across Mike's features.

"C'mon, Benson, I know for a fact that you're not stupid. Don't sit there trying to prove me wrong. Bobby did _not_ attack Deakins. Later on, we went back to the Chief's office and we retrieved Bobby's gun, his ID and his gold shield. They'd all been dumped. And, we retrieved security footage that showed the entire abduction. Bobby was _abducted_, and now we're finally going to get him back."

Olivia stared up at him, her incredulity finally melting away.

"You… really aren't kidding… are you?"

"Do I look like I'm kidding?"

Olivia looked past him, to where Munch was sitting, watching her intently.

"John…?"

He was on his feet in an instant, clearly just waiting for her to finally concede to the facts.

"C'mon, 'Liv. Let's go join the party."

* * *

To say Cragen was surprised to have the captain of the Major Case Squad march into his office, flanked by two of his own detectives and a man that he didn't recognise would have been an understatement. He sat there, blinking, and trying to decide whether or not he was being ambushed.

"Jim," he greeted the other captain finally. "What's all this about?"

"Don, I need to ask for your help," Deakins told him. "Specifically, your detectives' help. We have an operation planned, and we need extra manpower."

"A Major Case operation?" Cragen wondered. "You want to create a joint taskforce?"

"No," Deakins admitted grimly. "This is… unofficial. Off the records… Under the radar. However you want to think of it."

Again, Cragen blinked. He looked to Elliot and Fin, took in their expressions, and knew immediately that they knew exactly what it was all about.

"Are you going to enlighten me, then, Jim?" he asked in a subdued tone that had Elliot and Fin wanting to cringe. They knew that tone all too well. It was a tone that said that whatever he was told, he knew he wasn't going to like it. Glancing at Jarod, Deakins launched into a much-condensed explanation of what was going on, from Bobby's abduction eight and a half months ago, up to that moment. Cragen listened stony-faced, giving away nothing until Deakins finished speaking.

"And what about you two?" he asked, looking over at Elliot and Fin. "Do you two subscribe to this story?"

"It's true, Captain," Fin said quietly. "I know Bobby Goren… I've known him for a long time. He wouldn't just vanish. Not like this."

"It's crazy, that's what it is!" Cragen burst out. "More like something Munch would throw at me, not you, Jim. And you want to drag my detectives into this lunacy? Jesus…"

Deakins shook his head.

"We don't have time to argue about this. Jarod, show him the sim disc."

Without saying a word, Jarod lifted his sim viewer onto Cragen's desk, and was just setting it up to show the SVU captain when the door of the office was thrown open, and Olivia and Munch strode in. Mike came in behind them, closing the door carefully to keep others from listening in.

"We want in," Olivia stated flatly, and Cragen's expression darkened visibly.

"Cool it, Olivia. I don't even know just what it is that's going on here. So far, all I've heard is some way-out tale that I'm having a lot of trouble believing." His gaze went past her, to Mike. "Mikey? Don't tell me you're in on this too?"

"Captain Deakins wasn't lying to you, Donnie," Mike said quietly. "We've got a brother who needs saving from a really bad situation, and we need all the help we can recruit."

"Jarod, show him," Deakins growled impatiently. Jarod nodded, and slid the sim disc into the player.

Elliot, Fin, Olivia and Munch all moved around so they could see what was on the screen. Deakins and Mike stood back with Jarod. They already knew what was on the disc. Jarod had showed it to them in the car, before they came into SVU.

On the screen, Raines appeared and spoke, his voice sounding raspier than ever.

"Simulation experiment number One-Two-Nine. The subject has been restrained for the duration of this experiment, due to his uncooperative nature. We have been provided with a new metal, designed for the purposes of torture, and have been employed to test the effectiveness of the material."

Raines then stepped aside to reveal Bobby lying on a high table, cruelly restrained. He was shirtless and, even though the image was black and white and a little grainy, it was still all-too-easy to make out the welts, sores and bruising that peppered his upper body.

"Bobby…" Fin whispered in horrified dismay at the sight of his friend in such a horrible situation.

They watched in silence as Raines walked over and lifted a large syringe off a side table, and proceeded to inject the contents into Bobby's neck. All of them cringed at the strangled sob of pain that escaped Bobby as the needle went in.

"This drug is to slow the subject's heart rate, and reduce the risk of a heart attack during the simulation," Raines announced to the camera. He then lifted a second needle-like instrument off the side table, and pressed the sharpened tip against Bobby's temple. The detective had his eyes tightly shut in clear anticipation of extreme pain, and distinct sounds of whimpering could be heard.

"This metal was designed with the specific purpose of easily penetrating flesh and bone without needing to be heated first," Raines intoned. "The trick will be penetrating the skull far enough to cause maximum pain, but avoid causing death."

Jarod, Mike and Deakins all shut their eyes in anticipation of the scream of pain that ripped through the silence when Raines penetrated Bobby's skull with that piece of metal. Olivia cried out reflexively, and turned away from the sight, while Elliot groaned aloud and had to cover his mouth. Fin and Munch stood there in silence, taking in the images before them in sickened silence.

"Turn it off," Cragen said hoarsely, and Jarod immediately complied. The SVU captain spoke again, in a distinctly shaky voice.

"That was all for real… wasn't it? He really was being tortured…"

"What you just saw," Jarod said grimly, "was a mere fraction of what Bobby's suffered over the last eight months." He locked stares with the ashen-faced captain. "Please, let your people help us to get him out of there, before it's too late."

Cragen rubbed a hand over his face. Their story had left him seriously wondering about Deakins' sanity, but that footage had convinced him where no amount of verbal pleading would have.

"All right," he said finally. "I can let you have these four. Anymore than that, and the Chief of D's will start asking questions."

"No," Deakins said, recalling the looks on both Harris' and Adkins' faces when he'd left them in his office. "He won't. Trust me on that, Don."

Cragen decided he was better off not querying that.

"Okay. When is this… rescue going to happen?"

"Within the next seven days," Jarod answered. "We'll contact you when it's time, and provide further instructions." He looked to each of the four detectives. "Go on with your business as usual, but be ready to move when that call comes."

"Is it just us?" Elliot wondered, and Jarod shook his head.

"No. We have a taskforce prepared, make up primarily of Navy SEALs. You'll be joining that taskforce."

"Thankyou," Deakins told them sincerely as Jarod closed the viewer case and lifted it off Cragen's desk. "We really are grateful that you're willing to help."

"Tell me one thing," Cragen asked softly. "What are your chances of getting him out alive?"

Jarod glanced uneasily at Deakins before answering.

"We have perhaps a fifty percent chance of rescuing him alive. If we can go in without alerting them too soon, then we'll have a better chance at getting him out. But if they're tipped off somehow… if they get any hint that we're coming, then they'll either move Bobby out of the Centre to an entirely new location, or they'll kill him. Either way, this is the once chance we're going to have."

* * *

Deakins and Mike arrived back at One Police Plaza to find Alex and Carolyn waiting for them in the captain's office with Oliver, King and Jackson.

"We're in, Captain," Jackson confirmed as soon as the two men walked in. Deakins nodded in gratitude.

"Thankyou, all three of you."

"Don't thank us, Captain," Oliver said dismissively. "We want Goren back, too. We would have been pissed if you'd left us out of it."

"Did you get anyone at SVU?" Alex asked quietly.

"We got Stabler, Benson, Fin and Munch," he confirmed, and Carolyn raised an eyebrow curiously.

"So you managed to convince Captain Cragen?"

"Only after showing him one of the sim discs," Deakins answered. The women glanced at each other.

"It was bad?" Alex asked softly, and Mike nodded.

"Yeah, it was."

"So what happened with Adkins and Harris?" Deakins asked, abruptly changing the subject. He didn't particularly want Alex asking about the contents of the disc, and he had no intention of telling her if she did ask.

"Oh, that was beautiful, Captain," Jackson said with a wide grin. "After you four left, Adkins went straight to the video room. Harris went with him, sputtering all over the place in a total panic, and trying to convince him not to look at the tape. He did, of course, and we were all waiting to see how he'd react."

"And…?" Deakins asked.

"I don't think there's been an explosion like it since Krakatoa," Oliver declared with a short laugh. "Harris was out there in the bullpen, trying to look like he was in control, when Adkins bellowed his name… and I mean _bellowed_ it. You could have heard him anywhere on this floor, I'm sure of it. Next moment, Adkins comes charging around the corner with the tape. He gave it to King here, and told him he wanted two copies of it made, both to be sent directly to his office. Then, he tells Harris that they're taking a little trip upstairs to IAB! Harris is still sputtering, and Adkins tells him as they go out that, quote, no one is going to get away with betraying a cop in his Department, unquote."

Mike snorted.

"So, maybe we'll have a new Chief of D's by the end of the week."

"No," Deakins murmured. "Adkins won't sack Harris, and he's got enough friends in IAB that the most he'll get is a reprimand for not reporting the incident. He'll come up with some excuse to cover his ass. The point, though, is that the heat is off us now, at least for the time being. Hopefully for long enough for us to bring Bobby home… however long it might take."

* * *

_tbc..._


	14. Moving Out

_Four days later_

Deakins sat silently in his office, drumming his fingers lightly on the desktop. The last few days had been just about the toughest that any of them had endured, even more-so than the previous eight and a half months. The entire squad was on tenterhooks, waiting for that call from Jarod to tell them that everything was ready, that it was finally time to act.

He himself had spent the last four days not only keeping the Major Case Squad functioning at an outwardly acceptable level, but also making plans for someone to take over and fill in for him as acting captain while he was absent, as well as for his wife and daughters to go to his sister's home in San Diego for the next three months.

He grimaced as he recalled the family discussion that had resulted in the decision to send his wife and daughters away. Angie had been horrified at the thought of taking the girls out of school, and the girls had been horrified at the idea of being away from their friends. Or rather, that was until he'd sat the three of them down and explained the full situation to them.

A palpable silence had enveloped the house while he told them the truth behind Bobby's disappearance (until then, even his own family had been led to believe that Bobby's absence was semi-official), and the truth of the horror he'd had to endure for nearly nine months now. By the time he'd finished speaking, all three had been in tears. Angie had then agreed softly that he had to do whatever he could to help save Bobby, and that she and the girls would pack immediately to go west.

The girls had very vocally expressed their own agreement, along with fervent prayers for a successful rescue. Not another word was said in protest about their temporary relocation. They had left that very morning, amidst many tears, and a firm promise from him to contact them as soon as it was safe to do so.

Also, he had had to arrange for someone else to visit Frances Goren at Carmel Ridge in his absence. True to his promise to Bobby, Deakins had gone to see her every Wednesday evening, without fail. Some of those visits had been good, and some not so good, but he'd never failed to go, not once.

He had been troubled at the thought that there might not be anyone to keep that once-a-week visit going, but ultimately he needn't have worried. Once he mentioned the situation to his detectives, a roster had been very quickly organised, ensuring that each of the Major Case detectives would take it in turns to visit her, and that her routine would continue on uninterrupted. Quietly, he'd been touched by the sincerity of the squad members but, as Jackson had pointed out, they all wanted to help. For those who could not actively help in the rescue itself, this was the next best thing.

After that, all that had been left for him to deal with was putting in the 'official' applications for leave of absence for himself, Alex, Mike and Carolyn. For that, he'd gone to Commissioner Adkins directly. Normally, it would have been through the Chief of Detectives, but there was no way in hell that Deakins intended to clue Harris in to what was happening, and risk alerting the Centre. So he'd gone to Adkins, and told him on the quiet what the plan was. Adkins hadn't been especially happy with the idea of Deakins and three of his detectives doing a disappearing act, but he hadn't objected. He'd signed off on the applications, and then tucked them away in his drawer, to be produced after the fact.

Mike and Carolyn's affairs had taken only a small effort to put in order in preparation for the anticipated seclusion. Carolyn's parents lived in Washington DC. She'd called to warn them that she would be out of contact with them for a couple of months or more, but hadn't considered it necessary to tell them to go elsewhere for the interim. Mike had no family to concern himself with, and the only arrangements he'd made was for a neighbour to keep an eye on his apartment.

Alex, on the other hand, had had more complicated arrangements to make. After considerable discussion, her parents had decided on Connecticut, where they were welcome to stay with Helen Eames' father. Alex's brothers and sister, though, had all opted to stay put, but had all promised to be on alert both for themselves, and for anyone at all who might come asking after her.

Not that it mattered, as Alex's sister Sarah had pointed out. Alex hadn't told any of them where she would be going after Bobby's rescue, and what they didn't know, they couldn't be made to tell.

Deakins knew it pained Alex to be separated from her family. It pained him, as well, but in this instance, the good of the one outweighed the good of the many. They had to get Bobby out of that place, and that was all there was to it.

"Nothing yet?"

He looked up to see Mike standing in the doorway, and shook his head.

"No. Not yet."

Mike pulled a face as he wandered in and dropped into one of the empty chairs.

"The whole squad's on edge, Captain. We want to move on this. We want to get him out."

"I know, Mike," Deakins assured him. "Believe me, I know."

"Captain…"

It was with some effort that Deakins kept his voice even.

"What, Mike?"

"When Don Cragen asked what the odds were of getting Bobby out of there alive… Jarod said about fifty percent."

"What of it?"

"Those aren't great odds," Mike said softly. Deakins paused, and then set his pen down and sat back in his chair, watching Mike critically.

"Are you having second thoughts about this?"

"No!" Mike burst out. "Hell, no… It… It just scares me… that we might get him out of there, only to have to bury him."

"That was always a risk, Mike," Deakins pointed out. "And I don't like it anymore than you do, but it's a possibility that we have to accept. There is a strong chance that when we reach Bobby, he might already be dead."

"If they kill him, then it'll kill Alex," Mike said reluctantly. "It'll just about kill all of us."

"That's why this operation is being kept so tightly under wraps," Deakins said. "We're not risking anything getting back to the Centre. With any luck, they won't know we're coming until we're right on top of them."

"Do you really think it's going to work?" Mike wondered, and this time Deakins caught a plaintive note in his voice. The detective was desperate for reassurance, he realised sadly.

"Yes," he answered softly, with as much confidence as he could muster. "I really do think it's going to work, Mike. I believe we're going to go in there, find Bobby, and get him out, _alive_. I really do believe that. I have to believe that."

"You know," Mike said after a moment's hesitation, "one thing we haven't considered is counselling."

Puzzlement filled Deakins' face at Mike's words.

"What do you mean, counselling?"

"For Bobby, I mean. It's one thing to say that we need to go with him to… well, to wherever it is that Jarod plans on taking him, but none of us are psychiatrists. And Jarod…? He might have pretended to be one at some point, but he's not really a shrink. We all agree that Bobby's going to be in a bad way, right?"

"Right," Deakins agreed.

"So, shouldn't we be looking at providing proper psychiatric help for him?"

Deakins had to concede that Mike's reasoning was sound.

"All right," he murmured. "Point taken. Do you have any suggestions?"

"As a matter of fact, I do," Mike confirmed. "Elizabeth Olivet."

The captain mused on that for a minute, and the more he thought about it, the more he liked it. Mike was right, of course. Good though their intentions were, it would still be no substitute for psychiatric healing, and that was what Bobby was going to need. After nearly nine months in that hell-hole, Deakins could only imagine what the damage might be.

"It's a good idea," Deakins agreed finally. "I think you're right, Mike. But we can't contact her yet. We'll wait until we've actually gotten Bobby out of there, and then look into arranging it. Any particular reason for suggesting Olivet, though? I've heard good reports about George Huang over at SVU… and there's Emil Skoda, as well."

"I've got personal experience with Olivet," Mike said quietly, his gaze fixed very firmly on the floor. "She's good at what she does… She's not confrontational… and I think Bobby would respond better to her than to anyone."

"That's not something we can anticipate, Mike," Deakins told him. Mike shrugged.

"Maybe. Look, I just know she's good at getting people to trust her. I think she could probably help Bobby, that's all."

"It's a good idea," Deakins assured him. "But let's just take it one step at a time…"

He trailed off as the phone on his desk rang, cutting harshly into the quiet. Frowning at the interruption, he lifted the handset and spoke impatiently.

"Deakins."

Mike was about to get up and leave, when he caught the sudden change in Deakins' expression. He hesitated, out of curiosity and more than a little hope, to see who the caller was.

Deakins sat silently, saying nothing, but listening intently. Finally, nearly a minute later, he spoke in a soft, tense voice.

"We'll be there in an hour."

He hung up and looked up at Mike tensely.

"Go and get Alex and Carolyn."

"Captain…?"

Deakins' eyes flashed with renewed vigour.

"That was Jarod. It's time to move."

* * *

_SVU_

Don Cragen hung up his phone and sat back with a thud, his heart in his throat. For nearly a minute, he didn't move, fighting the urge to pinch himself in an effort to prove that he was only dreaming. Finally, though, shaking himself back to reality, he rose up and walked quickly out of his office. A quick glance around, and he spotted his four top detectives crowded around Elliot and Olivia's desks, sharing a lunch that looked to Cragen like Thai take-away.

After a moment's hesitation to observe them, he cross the floor and came up beside the desk, catching their attention by rapping hard on the wood. All four heads came up simultaneously to look at him quizzically, and he motioned back over his shoulder to his office, and spoke in a harsh tone that had them all wincing.

"You four," he said, putting an extra edge into his tone. "My office. Now."

Exchanging uneasy looks, Elliot, Olivia, Fin and Munch abandoned their lunch and filed silently into Cragen's office.

* * *

"What the hell have we done now?" Fin asked sullenly. Cragen closed the door behind them, and then spoke apologetically.

"I just had a phone call from Jim Deakins. It's time." He motioned to the desktop. "I want your guns, badges and Department IDs. You're not to take them with you."

"Your call, or Deakins'?" Elliot asked as they each removed the items in question.

"Deakins' instructions," Cragen confirmed. "You're to go anonymously. Now, get yourselves over to Domestic Terminal Five, at La Guardia. Go to the information counter, and ask for Major Charles. You'll be given further instructions then."

"Okay," Elliot said, looking around at his colleagues. "Let's get going."

Cragen followed them out, and stood watching just inside the door of the precinct as they piled into Elliot and Olivia's SUV, and drove off.

"God speed, guys," he murmured softly, once the vehicle had vanished around the corner. "Bring him home."

* * *

Deakins had just hung up the phone from talking to Don Cragen when Mike strode back into the room, with Alex and Carolyn.

"I told Jackson, King and Oliver," Mike said quietly. "They've gone to stow their stuff. They'll meet us down in the garage."

The captain answered that with an accepting nod. Leaning down, he pulled open the large bottom drawer of his desk and removed a large, lockable tin box. Setting it down on his desk and opening it up to reveal three solitary items – a gun, a gold detective's shield and a Department ID card. Bobby's gun, shield and ID.

He then proceeded to remove his shield, his ID and his gun, and laid all the items in the box.

Once he'd done so, Alex stepped up and did the same. Without speaking a word, she unclipped her badge and her gun, and placed them with her ID in the box.

Then it was Mike's turn, and he followed suit without hesitation, setting his gun, shield and ID in the box with the others.

When he stepped back, all eyes turned to look at Carolyn, who was hesitating in the doorway. She glanced uneasily at each of them, and for a split second it seemed that she might just turn and bolt. But then, visibly steeling herself, she moved forward and placed her own gun, badge and ID in the box as well.

Nodding grimly, Deakins closed the box and locked it, placing it back in the bottom drawer of his desk.

"For when we come back," he said quietly, and Alex nodded.

"For when we _all_ come back."

"Together," Mike added fiercely. Carolyn spoke, renewed determination in her voice. The point of no return had long since been breached. There was no longer any choice, but to go forward.

"Let's go get our brother back."

* * *

They arrived at La Guardia, at Terminal Five as per Jarod's instructions, and the seven of them headed straight for the information desk, where they were met by a bright-eyed young woman.

"Can I help you?" she asked in an impossibly cheerful tone. Deakins nodded.

"We're here to see Major Charles."

The woman's expression altered, her bright smile rapidly replaced with a look of sharp understanding. She produced a key, and held it out to Deakins.

"Go through to Gate Nine. There's a door marked 'Strictly No Admittance'. This key will unlock that door. Go through that door, and walk down to another room at the end of the corridor. The others are waiting there for you."

Deakins accepted the key, and led the way through the terminal.

* * *

"Maybe we shouldn't have left our guns behind," Mike said as they approached Gate Nine.

"Relax, Mike," Deakins said quietly. "Jarod knew what he was doing. We would never have gotten through security unnoticed with our guns. Just keep walking."

* * *

There was enough people milling around at Gate Nine that they were able to slip unnoticed through the door the woman had described to them. They found themselves in a long corridor, which led the way down to another door, this one unmarked, at the far end.

Deakins paused at the door, just long enough to look around at the six detectives behind him, before pushing the door open and leading the way in.

* * *

The size of the room they found themselves in caught them all by surprise. After the narrow length of the corridor, it was a surprise to find themselves in a large open room that was more than a little reminiscent of a lecture theatre. There was over a dozen desks in the room, most of which were occupied by a number of men in civilian clothing.

When they walked in, all heads turned to check them out, but Deakins and his team ignored the stares; focused, instead, on the two men who quickly crossed the floor to meet them.

"Jarod," Deakins said quietly by way of greeting. "Commander Ellis."

Ellis smiled and shook hands vigorously with the captain.

"Welcome to our little party, folks." He paused, looking past Deakins to the six detectives behind him, and doubt flickered across his features. "Is this it?"

"No," Deakins answered firmly, and none of them missed the relief in Ellis' eyes. "There's another four on their way. They should be here soon."

"Good," Ellis enthused. "That's very good. With my twenty, Jarod and myself, that makes thirty-three. I like that number. This mission is starting to look good."

"Have you heard anything more about Bobby?" Alex asked Jarod with more than a touch of anxiety in her voice. Reluctantly, Jarod shook his head.

"I'm sorry, no. I haven't heard anything since I spoke to you four days ago."

Alex fell back, struggling to contain her disappointment and worry. Ellis glanced at Jarod, and then spoke to her as reassuringly as he could.

"God willing, we'll have him out of there soon. Be strong, Detective, for just a little longer."

Alex nodded wordlessly, not quite able to bring herself to smile. Mike slipped an arm comfortingly around her shoulders and gave her a brief hug, which she willingly leaned into. The entire situation was taking its toll on all of them, and the only thing keeping them going was the hope, however slim it was, that they would soon have Bobby back with them where he belonged.

"Come and have a seat," Ellis invited them. "As soon as your other people get here, then we can get started."

* * *

The detectives from SVU arrived ten minutes later, completing the number. Ellis then moved to the front of the room, his commanding presence quickly drawing the attention of everyone there. He paused to look the group over briefly, and the spark in his eyes told them he approved of what he saw. Then, he began to speak.

"For the benefit of those here who don't know me, I'm Commander Dan Ellis. I'm the one who's got the privilege of running this operation, and I intend to see it played out smoothly, and successfully. And for that to happen, we need to be willing to put aside right now any difference, and any rivalry. In this room, and from this point on, you're no longer Navy. You're no longer NYPD. There is no place for any rivalry here, and I cannot… No, I _will_ _not_ tolerate anyone trying to outdo anyone else. We are a team, and we will act like it. And right here is the reason."

Stepping to one side, Ellis pressed a button on a hand-held device and a large screen came to life behind him. On that screen there was an image of Bobby, a photo that had been taken not long before his abduction.

"This mission has multiple parameters, but one prime target," Ellis went on, "and that is to rescue this man. Take a good look, people. For those of you who don't already know him, this is Robert Goren. You'll find a picture of him in the dossiers you'll be given shortly. I want you to study his face. Burn his image into your brain, so that you feel a hundred and fifty percent certain that you could recognise him anywhere. Because believe me, after nine months in the hell-hole we're going to bust him out of, he is definitely not going to look as healthy as this."

In the midst of the gathered group, Alex winced visibly at the blunt reminder that Bobby's physical condition was likely to be severely neglected, to say the least. She felt a hand close over her own, and looked around to see Deakins offering her a reassuring smile. She attempted to return the gesture, and failed miserably. She didn't think she'd ever felt less like smiling in her life.

"Our prime objective," Ellis continued, "is to find Robert Goren, and rescue him, _alive_. The last report we received a week and a half ago indicated that he is still alive, but we can't afford to waste any more time. To that end, we plan to launch this operation _tonight_."

A murmur went through the group, and someone called out incredulously.

"Are we going to be ready for that, sir? We got newbies to train, here…"

"Stow that remark, Bailey," Ellis growled. "The 'newbies' you're so eloquently referring to are seasoned NYPD detectives, and I don't doubt their capabilities to deal with this situation. We will be ready to move by tonight, I promise you that."

"Sorry, sir," Bailey murmured, sounding sincerely contrite.

"Anyone else have any concerns about going in tonight?" Ellis demanded to know, but no one spoke. He nodded in satisfaction and directed the SEAL seated nearest him to start handing out dossiers. There were two different colours, blue and red. The red dossiers were handed out to the SEALs, and were each individually named, while the blue ones were handed out to the detectives. Of the blue folders, only four already had names on them: Deakins, Eames, Logan and Barek. The other seven folders handed out were all unnamed.

"I didn't know for certain how many extras people were going to be joining the team," Ellis said, speaking specifically to the detectives. I'd only assigned Captain Deakins, and Detectives Eames, Logan and Barek to specific roles in this operation. The rest of you have been randomly assigned tasks, according to which folder you've been given." He returned his attention to the group as a whole. "I hope no one will take issue with what they've been assigned to do. We don't have time for dissension. If we're going to save Goren, then it's vital that we all work together.

"Now, when we move out, you'll be travelling in your individual strike groups. Each strike group will have a team leader, and it's that team leader's responsibility to make sure that everyone in his team knows what they're supposed to be doing and when. You can find the strike group that you've been assigned listed inside your folder. For now, though, we're going to go over the plan in general terms. Jarod?"

Jarod rose up and took the handheld control from Ellis, clicking it once and replacing Bobby's image with the image of an imposing building that didn't look that much different to the façade of a prison.

"This is the Centre," he told the group. "More specifically, the Centre's base in Blue Cove, Delaware, where Bobby Goren has been held prisoner for the last nine months."

Alex sucked in a shaky breath at her first sight of the place that had been the subject of so many of her nightmares over the past months. She supposed that under any other circumstance, the place might have sent a slight shiver down her spine, but nothing worse than that. Now, knowing what she did, it almost made her physically sick. A glance to her right, to Deakins, told her she wasn't alone there. The captain looked similarly ill, although she wondered whether that was partly from his own memories. She wondered, suddenly, whether he had ever been inside the Centre during his time as a rookie in Blue Cove, or whether it was a place that he had only ever glimpsed from the outside.

She tried to catch his gaze, but that time he refused to look at her.

Jarod clicked the button again, and this time they found themselves looking at an older map of Delaware – a map on which Blue Cove was highlighted.

"This map is one of the very few on which Blue Cove is shown," Jarod explained. "After the Centre was built, it ceased to be included on any maps, road maps or otherwise. It sits here, on the coast, southeast of Middletown. It's a very isolated town. There's not so much as a gas station within seventy miles of its borders in any direction. We're going to use that to our advantage, to slip into the town as clandestinely as possible." He clicked the button again, and this time the map that appeared was of Blue Cove itself, with the location of the Centre itself clearly marked.

"This is the only map in existence that denotes the location of the Centre," Jarod told them. "You'll find copies of it, and the other map I showed you, in your folders, along with an actual plan of the Centre. You need to study them, and familiarise yourselves with the layout of the building, and the town. It will be important when it's time to pull out."

Another click, and this time the plan of the Centre building appeared on the screen, with several key points highlighted. Ellis then stood up again, joining Jarod.

"Here," Ellis said, using a pointer to indicate one highlighted spot, "is where we expect to find Goren. It's on Sub-level Twelve."

"And if he's not there?" Fin asked. Ellis nodded.

"We'll come to that shortly. Now, I've divided you into five strike teams, and each team has been designated a particular colour. We've got Red Strike; Green Strike; Blue Strike; Black Strike and Grey Strike, and each team's number has been assigned according to the task they've been given. I'm going to go through each strike team's task now, starting with Red. Red Strike has just three men in it, and it will be Red Strike's job to go in ahead of the rest of us, and plant the explosives that we plan to detonate after the job is done."

"You're gonna blow the place up?" Elliot asked, startled.

"They'll be given sufficient warning to evacuate," Ellis replied. "It isn't our aim to take lives, but that building is _not_ going to be left standing. Now, as I said, Red Strike will be going in ahead of the rest of us to ensure the explosives are planted, and ready to detonate at a moment's notice.

"Black Strike is the team that will be responsible for taking out the Centre's power. Timing is going to critical. If the power goes out too soon, they'll have time to figure out what's going on, and either move Goren somewhere else… or even kill him. Above all else, we want to avoid that happening. It will be crucial that the cutting of the Centre's power is timed perfectly with our assault. Again, it will be the responsibility of the team leaders to coordinate accurately.

"It will be the responsibility of Green Strike to ensure the common entry points to the Centre are secure. The place will be crawling with agents as it is. We don't want any fresh arrivals coming in and creating unanticipated problems.

"Blue Strike is responsible for our getaway. We have five exit plans ready, depending on what goes down while we're in there. Blue Strike must be ready to execute any of those five plans at a moment's notice, to ensure a fast, safe escape.

"Finally, Grey Strike's responsibility will be finding Robert Goren and bringing him out. Jarod…?"

Jarod nodded, and took over speaking.

"Finding Bobby will be potentially the most dangerous task. No matter how well prepared we are, and how precise we are, it is not going to take the people in charge long to work out what's happening. When they do, it's going to be a race to get to Bobby before they have a chance to do either of the things that Commander Ellis mentioned. We have to be prepared that we may have to intercept them in the process of moving Bobby to take him beyond our reach."

"If they try to move him," someone asked, "to take him out of there entirely, how would they be likely to do it?"

"There are two likely possibilities," Jarod answered. "The less likely is that they'll try to smuggle him out and move him by car. What's more likely is that they'll try to take him up the tower, and take him away by helicopter. The tower is this section right here. If they succeed in getting him up there, and airlifting him out, then we'll have lost our chance. We can't let them use that option."

"Green Strike will need to do what they can to secure all possible entrances to the tower," Ellis confirmed.

"You said we're not aiming to take lives here," Mike spoke up, his tone deceptively calm. "So what do we do if we get fired at? Aim for their kneecaps?"

"If you're fired upon," Ellis said flatly, "repel borders. Fire back, and don't take any chances. I don't just want to get Goren out of there alive. I want everyone in this room to walk away from that place, too. If you honestly believe you have no option, then yes. You shoot to kill. One parameter of this mission is anonymity. We plan on leaving no trace of ourselves behind, at all, so it'll be your consciences that you have to answer to. I trust all of you not to be trigger-happy, and kill indiscriminately. That isn't what we're going in there to do."

"When we pull out of there," Jarod went on, firing Mike a suspicious look, "whatever exit plan we ultimately use, the vehicles we'll be using will take us to a designated point approximately twenty miles outside Blue Cove. Those assigned to Blue Strike will find road maps in the folders. You need to study them, and familiarise yourselves with the roads in and around Blue Cove.

"There will be three helicopters waiting for us when we get to the designated meeting point. The first two will deliver its passengers back to New York and, if everything goes to plan, you'll be back here by this time tomorrow. The third will be heading for a completely different destination. That will be the helicopter that will be carrying Bobby. I'll be going on that transport, as will Captain Deakins, Detective Eames, Detective Logan and Detective Barek."

"Where will you be going?" Olivia asked, startled by the announcement.

"That's strictly need-to-know knowledge," Jarod answered, not so much as cracking a smile. "And the only ones who need to know are those who will be on that flight." He paused, taking in the incredulous expressions of the four SVU detectives before speaking again in a gentler tone. "I'll be the one piloting that chopper, and the intent is to get Bobby to a safe and secure location, beyond the reach of the Centre. Captain Deakins and Detectives Eames, Logan and Barek will be coming partly so that Bobby will have familiar and friendly faces with him… but also because they are known to the Centre, and would be otherwise targeted in the Centre's attempts to get Bobby back. The rest of you are safe as long as you stay anonymous."

"And that's why I'll personally shoot anyone who takes their masks off once we start this operation," Ellis added fiercely. "Now, does anyone have any questions?"

Silence met Ellis' words. He nodded, satisfied.

"Okay, then. Everyone up, and let's go get fitted out for this op."

* * *

"Green Strike," Mike mused as they crossed the tarmac to a hangar that sat isolated, farthest away from the terminal.

"Same," Carolyn said as she looked inside her folder. She glanced sideways at Alex, and was mildly disturbed at the way she seemed to be gritting her teeth together. "Alex…?"

"Blue Strike," Alex said in monotone. Deakins, Mike and Carolyn all exchanged glances. They understood her flat tone all too well. Alex had been assigned to the team whose task it was to ensure a fast and safe getaway for them all. She would not be going into the Centre itself during the operation.

"Look…" Carolyn murmured in a low voice. "If you want to switch, I don't mind."

For a split second, Alex hesitated, and it seemed that she was going to accept the offer. But then, with a shuddering sigh, she gave a quick shake of her head.

"No. I… I don't like it, but I guess I can understand it. And besides… I'm a better driver than the rest of you put together."

"Well, I hate to say it, but you're right about that," Mike agreed. Alex sighed again, pushing her hair almost brutally out of her eyes.

"I really want to go in there, but… I have to ask myself, would I just be compromising the operation? As much as I want to answer no, I can't. I know that if I set foot in there, all I'll be able to think about will be finding Bobby. I wouldn't be able to concentrate on what I was supposed to be doing… and I guess Jarod and Commander Ellis know that. I can't justify putting the operation in jeopardy. I won't do anything to put Bobby at risk, and if that means sitting outside in a car, waiting for the rest of you to come back out… then that's what I'll do."

Mike grunted.

"Well, you're a bigger person than I am. I'd raise hell if they tried to keep me out. Still, you're probably right and I, for one, will feel a hell of a lot better knowing you're behind the wheel of one of the getaway cars."

"Getaway cars," Alex echoed with a short, strained laugh. "Sounds more like we're planning a heist, than a rescue."

"But what we're planning to steal is more valuable to us than any jewels or money," Deakins put in quietly.

"Captain?" Carolyn asked, suddenly realising that those were the first words Deakins had said since before they'd been handed their individual folders. "What about you?"

"Yeah," Mike chimed in. "Where's they put you, Captain?"

Deakins said nothing. Instead, he handed his folder to Mike, and kept walking. Mike blinked in surprise, and opened the folder. A moment later, he slowed to a halt, his mouth open.

"What is it?" Alex asked, feeling her gut tighten instinctively at the look on her colleague's face. "Which team did they put him in?"

"Grey Strike," Mike answered hoarsely. "He's part of the team that'll be going in to find Bobby."

* * *

They walked into the hangar to find a long row of tables that stretched all the way down one wall, laden with piles of black clothing, and various weaponry.

"Okay, people," Ellis announced loudly. "Get yourselves outfitted. Choose clothes, and weapons that you will be confident and comfortable using, and be quick about it. We're on a tight schedule, and we don't have time to waste."

"Ski masks?" Olivia asked in bemusement as she held up a jet black ski mask.

"Anonymity," Ellis reminded her firmly. "You do not want these people getting a look at your face, not for any reason. Remember, no taking chances. Now hurry up. We're flying out in an hour."

* * *

"This is nice," Mike commented wryly as they seated themselves inside a private jet not quite an hour later. Each of them now carried with them a large black sports bag, inside which was their outfit for the task ahead, and the weapons they'd chosen for themselves.

"Only the best, of course."

They all looked up as Jarod joined them.

"This belong to another well-connected friend?" Carolyn asked as he seated himself with the Major Case and SVU detectives. Jarod smiled wryly.

"Actually, this is mine," Jarod answered. His grin widened at the startled expressions that met his words. "Paid for by the Centre."

"By the _Centre_?" Mike growled, his hackles immediately going up. Jarod held up his hands defensively.

"Relax. They never know what I've done with the money until after the fact. I siphon off money from them whenever I need it, and I never hang on to the assets longer than necessary. I purchased this jet, along with the cars we'll be using, with Centre funds, and those funds will be put to good use when I sell them on."

"What about the helicopters Commander Ellis talked about?" Elliot asked. "Did you buy them, too?"

"Didn't need to," Jarod answered. "They came courtesy of Commander Ellis and his people."

"You must have done them one hell of a favour," Olivia remarked.

"He did."

They all looked up again, caught by surprise by Ellis' sudden appearance. Ellis regarded them all with a sober expression.

"Four years ago, we had a traitor in our team who'd killed one of my men, and set him up to look like _he_ was the traitor. Meant his wife couldn't claim his pension and other benefits, and she had two little children to take care of. Jarod infiltrated our team, smoked out the real traitor and trapped him like the filthy rat he was. Because of Jarod, those two little children are able to grow up remembering their dad as the hero that he was, and not as a traitor to his country. And, in the process, Jarod also saved my life when the son of a bitch took me hostage. So yes, Detective. He did do us one hell of a favour and as far as I'm concerned, this is just a small repayment. And it's why I won't consider anything other than complete success with this operation. By helping your colleague, we're also helping Jarod. So we _are_ going to get him out of that place, _alive_. I promise you that."

He paused, eyeing them piercingly before continuing on his way. Once he was gone, Alex spoke in a soft voice.

"Despite everything, I had my doubts about how successful we're going to be. I want Bobby back more than anything, but there was a part of me that kept whispering not to get my hopes up." She paused, and then went on softly. "This is the first time I really do believe that we might get him out of there alive."

Reaching across, Jarod closed his hand briefly over hers.

"Don't stop believing that, Detective Eames. We're going to save him. I promise."

* * *

_tbc..._


	15. An Ominous Warning

The jet landed in Dover, Delaware, forty minutes after its departure from La Guardia. From there, the group was divided into its five individual strike forces, and ushered into waiting vehicles for the journey to the rendezvous point outside Blue Cove.

Alex found herself in a minivan with six others; all SEALs, and not a familiar face among them. Her discomfort, though, lasted for about as long as it took her to realise that she was not being looked down on by any of them, and not one had questioned her placement in their team. Commander Ellis had appointed her as a driver, and they all accepted it as canon that she had the skills to carry out the task as well as they did.

It took very little time for her to come to the conclusion that they were good guys who were all eager to help.

"So, this guy is your partner, Detective?" one of the men asked as he looked at the photo of Bobby that had been included in each of their folders. She nodded, taking out her own photo out and looking at it sadly. It warmed her, though, that he did not speak of Bobby in the past tense.

"Yes, he is… and please, call me Alex."

The man nodded amiably.

"Okay, Alex. I'm Pete. That's Sam, Brady, Dale, Taylor and Jay."

"Gotta have been tough for you," Jay mused, his tone tinged with sympathy. "For you partner to be missing for nine months…"

"Tough?" Dale retorted. "I'd go out of my fucking mind!"

"I very nearly did," Alex admitted softly. "I think the only thing that stopped that was the phone call from Jarod, telling us it was time to get him out."

"So, how long has he been your partner for?" Pete asked, firing a quick, warning look at Dale.

"Five and a half years," Alex answered, suddenly finding it difficult to keep her voice even.

"Well, I'll tell you something," Pete said confidentially, "and I hope you don't think I'm just blowing our collective trumpet here, but those of us that Commander Ellis brought in for this op? We're the best there is, Alex, and this is what we do best, mounting rescue ops. We're going to get your partner out of that place, in one piece. Trust us, okay?"

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak immediately. When she did, it was to shift the topic away from something that was emotionally painful for her.

"You guys don't mind tag-alongs?"

Jay snorted derisively.

"Tag-alongs, my ass. Like Ellis said, you're NYPD. How long have you been a detective, Alex?"

"I'm been with Major Case for nearly seven years," Alex answered. "I spent five years with Vice before that. I was promoted to detective just before I went to Vice."

"So, around twelve years," Jay concluded. "You're hardly inexperienced, and I'll bet you've found yourself in some pretty hairy situations, too."

She nodded again.

"There have been moments…"

Her words were met with loud laughter from the six men, but there was nothing unkind about it, and she found herself smiling in reaction to their laughter.

"Uh huh," Pete said in between laughter. "Moments. Right. You've got a pretty sharp sense of humour, Alex. I like that."

Alex sighed softly. Yes, she thought miserably. So did Bobby…

"Okay, yes, the five years I was in Vice could get pretty…hairy. But when I moved to Major Case, that changed. Major Case is the thinking cop's squad. Especially after Bobby joined us. There were times when we were in immediate danger, but they were few and far between. It wasn't that we were dealing with any less dangerous people… It was Bobby. He seemed to have sixth sense to anticipate danger. He didn't avoid it, though. He seemed to have a skill for defusing a volatile situation. There was one time when he walked into a motel room without a vest on to talk down a man who was holding a shotgun to his two young children. And Bobby… he put himself directly between the gun and the children."

"Ballsy," someone murmured. Alex hesitated, expecting someone to add 'stupid', but it never came.

"I've been with Major Case for seven years," she said again. "Seven years, and in that time, I've had to fire my weapon twice… Only twice."

"Tell us something, and answer honestly," Pete said quietly. "Do you put that down to your own skills, or those of your partner?"

Alex fell silent, frowning. It was obvious she'd never really put that much thought to it before.

"Mine," she said finally, sincerely. "But without Bobby to back me up, I think I might have been in danger a lot more often than I've been the past. Bobby and I… We're a good team. The… The best, and I want him back."

The tears had started flowing even before she realised it, but there was no disgust or mockery in the gazes that watched her. A hand alighted on her shoulder, and she looked up to find Pete smiling reassuringly at her.

"Don't worry, Alex. You'll get him back soon. We promise."

* * *

Green Strike was the largest group, with a total of twelve members assigned to it. Half were SEALs, and the other half was made up from a mixture of MCS and SVU detectives. Upon arrival at Dover, they were ushered into a small bus, which immediately headed off on a different route to the other transports. It had been established early on, that each team would approach the rendezvous point near Blue Cove from different routes, to avoid as much suspicion as possible, and the likelihood of alerting anyone at the Centre that they were coming.

The detectives were wary at first, when their designated team leader began to go over their part of the operation in more intricate detail. Despite Ellis' words about rivalry, at best they expected to be ignored by the SEALs. At worst, they anticipated ridicule for simply being there.

To their collective surprise, it didn't happen. Rather than ostracising them, and treating them as an inconvenience, their team leader, a man who introduced himself simply as Jack, took extra care to include all six detectives.

"We're going to be splitting into four groups of three for this op," he explained to them. "We'll have two groups with two SEALs and one NYPD, and two with two NYPD and one SEAL." His gaze went to the detectives. "Are any of you guys regular partners?"

"We are," Mike volunteered, indicating himself and Carolyn.

"Same with us," Olivia spoke up for herself and Elliot. Jack nodded approvingly.

"Good. That makes it easier. Uh… Sorry, guys, names?"

"Mike and Carolyn," Mike answered.

"Okay. I'll be joining the two of you. And…"

"Elliot and Olivia," Elliot volunteered, and Jack nodded appreciatively.

"Thankyou. Dom, you're with Elliot and Olivia. Now, you other guys…"

"That's Jerry," Jackson said, motioning to Oliver. "And I'm Ben."

"Okay. Ben, you'll be with these guys right here, Todd and Barry. Jerry, you'll be with Zach and Tommy. Everyone okay with that set up?"

There was a murmur of agreement, and Jack nodded.

"Good. Okay, look in your folders. You'll find details maps of the Centre, and the surrounding terrain. Get those maps out, and we'll start going over what we'll be doing, one step at a time."

He waited while they pulled out their maps before continuing on.

"We'll be the third team to go in, and we have to time it perfectly with Black Strike. As soon as the power goes out, we'll be moving in. Our entry point is a disused service tunnel on the east side of the main building. It's highlighted on your maps, and it's the same one that Jarod used previously to get in and out of the Centre. When we're inside, it's imperative that we secure the ground floor as fast as possible, so that Grey Strike can move in and begin their search.

"Now, there are two main ways in and out of this place. The main entrance at the south side of the building, and the tower. There are a lot of smaller side exits, but they're all electronic. The blackout should disable all of them, preventing anyone using them to get out, or to get in. So, our first objective will be to secure the main entrance so that no one else can get in, and the tower so that no one can get out.

"Once that's done, one sub-team will stay at ground level to keep the area secure. The other three sub-teams will head into the sub-levels to try and provide as much ground cover as possible for Grey Strike.

"We will be leading the way in, clearing a path for Grey Strike. That's a our primary aim, to give Grey Strike a clear run, so they can locate Goren as fast as possible, and then to get out again just as quickly."

"Are we going out the same way we'll go in?" Olivia wondered as she studied her map. Jack smiled and shook his head.

"If all goes to plan, we're going to walk straight out their front door."

"That's insane!" Mike burst out. "They'll have a friggin' army out there, waiting for us!"

"Not if they can't get word out," Jack replied calmly. "Jarod is going to be taking care of blocking all outgoing communications from the Centre. And we're hoping the blackout will prevent anyone from getting suspicious about the lack of communication. The other point is that it will be the last thing they'll expect us to do. Once Grey Strike has found Goren, our prime concern will be to get out of there as fast as possible. We go in covertly, but there won't be anything pretty about our exit. We'll probably be getting shot at from within, and there is nothing smooth about making a run for it while you're dodging bullets.

"Our objective is clear; to find and rescue Robert Goren. We'll be hitting them hard and fast, and clearing out even faster. The simplest way to do that will be to go straight out the front door. Now, if Blue Strike times is right, they'll be there waiting for us when we walk out that door. Then, once we're in those cars, it'll be up to them to get us to the rendezvous point to meet the choppers."

"There's an awful lot that could go wrong with this plan," Elliot said quietly. Jack nodded in concession.

"Yes, you're right. But that's why we have to be flexible. We have backup plans, and I'll go over those with you all shortly. I want to ask you something first, though. Out of you six from the NYPD, how many of you know Goren personally?"

"We work in the same squad as him," Oliver said, indicating himself and King. "But Logan and Barek over there are the ones who have worked with him directly."

Jack looked over at that.

"So, tell us about him. From a personal point of view."

Mike and Carolyn exchanged glances, and Carolyn nodded in deference to her partner. He had more experience with Bobby than she did, and it was he whom Bobby often went out to bars with on a Friday night.

"Well…" Mike muttered, annoyed at being put on the spot like that. "The guy's a damned good cop… He's a brilliant profiler. He, um… He's just a good guy."

Jack raised an eyebrow.

"That's all you can say for him?"

Mike bristled visibly, but Carolyn nudged him.

"Tell them about the Federal prison."

Mike's breath caught as the memories of that incident came back with force.

"What happened?" Jacked asked, curiosity in his eyes. Mike hesitated, and the spoke slowly, his gaze fixed on the floor of the bus.

"Bobby and his partner… Alex… they were investigating the murder of a prison guard, and it led them back to these other guards that the murdered guard worked with. It turned out there were unofficial prisoners there, and they were being abused by the guards. The guard who was killed, he was quitting to join the NYFD, and the others killed him because they were worried he'd talk.

"I got involved because my girlfriend at the time was a nurse at the prison, and she knew what was going on. Anyway, Bobby and I went to the prison to get Gina out, but we got caught in the middle of a lockdown. We were confronted by the four guards. We were unarmed. They had their batons, and they made it pretty damn clear what they planned to do to us. I was ready to go down fighting. I even told the sons of bitches that we'd take one of them with us. Bobby, though…

"Now, I know he was as scared as I was. I could hear it in his voice, see it in his face. The guy was terrified. But despite that, he started talking… I swear, I've never seen anything like it before. He homed in on the weakest of the four, and talked him down, and then he did the same with each one of them until only the ringleader was left. He was terrified, but he still managed to talk our way out of there.

"I admit that I didn't think much of him and all his psychobabble before then, but what happened in that prison totally changed my opinion of him. I respected him after that… and when I moved to Major Case later that year, it didn't take us long to become friends."

"Now _that's_ one hell of a tale," Jack said approvingly. Mike rubbed fiercely at his eyes, suddenly aware of the tears that were threatening.

"He's a good friend… and I don't really have too many of those. I burned a lot of bridges over the years, you know? We… We've gotta get him out of that place."

Jack nodded, smiling with renewed confidence and determination.

"We will, together."

* * *

Deakins sat for the most part in silence, listening while Jarod and Ellis outlined their part of the operation. It seemed simple enough. They would follow Green Strike in through the service tunnel, but then wait in the tunnel for the all-clear signal to go into the actual building. Then, Jarod would lead them down to sub-level twelve where, God willing, they would find Bobby.

Their team was small, with just five people, one of whom was Fin Tutuola, whom Deakins knew had worked alongside Bobby in Narcotics. Even though Ellis had claimed that assignments had been handed out randomly, Deakins had to wonder. It seemed to him to be more than just a curious turn of fate that of any of the detectives who might have ended up in this particular strike team, the one who did was the man who, with the exception of Alex, possibly knew Bobby the best.

"What if Bobby isn't where you expect him to be?" Fin asked suddenly. "This Centre is one hell of a big place, and we ain't gonna have time to search everywhere."

"If he has been moved," Jarod answered, "then I'll be relying on my contact to tell us where he is."

"Your contact," Deakins echoed quietly, drawing the attention of the other four men with his tone. "You trust someone _inside_ the Centre to do right by Bobby."

It wasn't a question, and the scathing tone had even Jarod wanting to wince.

"I've trusted him for the last ten years, Captain Deakins," Jarod told him. "He hasn't betrayed that trust once."

"Who is it?" Deakins demanded to know. "Sydney?"

"No," Jarod answered. "His name is Angelo. He was taken by the Centre like I was, but he was never able to escape the place like me. Believe me, we can trust him."

Deakins looked doubtful, but didn't argue further.

"What's really bothering you, Captain?" Ellis wondered. Deakins stared at him for a long moment before looking away out the window at the passing scenery.

"I'm afraid of what we'll find when we go in there," Deakins admitted softly. "I'm terrified that all we'll bring out of there is a… a corpse."

"I wish I could reassure you that won't be the case," Ellis said, "but I can't tell you something that I'm not a hundred percent sure of myself. We all want this to be a successful rescue, and we'll do everything in our power to make it so, but at the same time we have to prepare ourselves for the fact that it may not be."

"I just wish I knew for sure that he's alive right now," Deakins said in a stricken voice.

"If we knew for certain that he wasn't," Jarod ventured cautiously, "would you want to pull out of this operation?"

"No," Deakins replied without hesitation. "I'd still want to go in and get him out… even if it was only so that we could give him the burial he deserves. And to burn that damned place to the ground."

Nodding in satisfaction, Jarod pulled out his cell phone, and dialled a long-remembered number.

* * *

Miss Parker had just walked back into her office, and settled herself in her seat, when her cell phone rang. Exhaling sharply at the fresh blast of irritation that the sound afforded her, she snatched the phone off her desk and answered the call with her standard response.

"What?"

"_Is he still alive_?"

Parker froze at the familiar voice asking such an ambiguous question.

"Jarod?"

"_Yes or no, Miss Parker. Is Bobby still alive_?"

She exhaled again, but her irritation was forgotten.

"Yes," she answered quietly, sincerely. "But…"

"_What_?" Jarod asked tensely, when she hesitated.

"Right now, I guarantee he's wishing he wasn't," she told him grimly. She paused, and then swung around so that she was facing the window, _away_ from the security camera that recorded everything that happened in her office, and spoke in as low a voice as she could manage. "It's not good, Jarod. Raines has him completely in his control now, and it's been a month since Sydney was allowed to see him."

"_And_…?" Jarod pressed.

"He said he'd rather euthanize him than let him continue to suffer at Raines' hands. And coming from Sydney…"

"_I know_," Jarod muttered. Parker hesitated again before speaking. She couldn't believe what she was about to say…

"Jarod, you have to get him out of here."

Jarod froze, stunned by her words. As much as he knew Miss Parker was as capable of compassion as her mother had been, she rarely allowed that compassion to surface when it clashed with Centre business. She went on, her voice barely more than a whisper.

"I don't know where you are, or what you're doing, but you'd better drop it and get your ass back to Delaware _now_, and get Bobby out of here. I don't think he has much time left, and if he's left with Raines for much longer, it's going to be too late to help him. Just… hurry."

Jarod ended the call, his stomach in knots. For Miss Parker, of all people, to beg him to help, he knew it was bad.

"Well?" Deakins asked, watching piercingly.

"He's still alive," Jarod confirmed quietly. "But we don't have much time. If we don't get him out of there tonight, we may not be able to get him out at all."

* * *

_tbc..._


	16. An Anxious Interlude

The last team arrived at the rendezvous point just after dusk, giving the entire team one last opportunity liaise together before they all headed off in preparation to begin the operation. All thirty-three members of the strike force were clothed entirely in form-hugging black clothing, and decked out with their individual weapons of choice. The members of Blue Strike had their faces smeared with black camouflage paint, and sported black beanies to help conceal their features, rather than the black ski masks that the rest of the team had been issued. As Pete had pointed out, ski masks were a bitch when you were trying to drive.

"For those of you who aren't aware," Ellis told the gathered team, "we've received confirmation within the last few hours that Robert Goren is still alive."

Where she sat with her colleagues and friends, Alex sucked in a sharp breath, and Mike rubbed her back reassuringly.

"He's a fighter," Mike murmured softly to her. "He wouldn't give up."

"However," Ellis went on grimly, "the word is that his condition is not good, and that it's imperative we get him out as quickly as possible."

"So we make sure we don't fuck this up," someone said. Ellis nodded.

"Aptly said. Now here's the game plan, people. Red Strike will go in at ten tonight, and place the explosives. Black Strike will go in at eleven-fifteen, and disable the power. That will be timed to coincide with the communications failure that Jarod has planned. The power should go out at eleven-forty sharp.

"Green Strike and Grey Strike need to be _in_ the service tunnel well by then, waiting. As soon as the power is cut, Black Strike will give the signal, and Green Strike will move in. Green Strike must be inside within three minutes of getting the go-ahead. They will then secure the main entrance, the tower and the ground floor. As soon as that is done, Grey Strike will move in. Green Strike will be responsible for providing cover to Grey Strike, to enable them to find Goren as fast as possible.

"Once Goren has been located, I'll give the pull-out signal to everyone, and we will begin our exit immediately. Once that signal has been given, I want everyone out of that building and in an exit vehicle within seven minutes. No one is going to be left behind, but every minute taken beyond that seven minute period will make our escape that much more difficult.

"We will be relying on Blue Strike to be there waiting when we exit the building. It's vital that we be able to come out, and have the escape vehicles there, ready to go."

"We're all geared up," someone spoke up suddenly. "We've got vests to protect us. What about Goren? You know they're gonna be aiming at him when they shoot."

"Grey Strike will be carrying a spare vest, and a protective helmet for Goren," Ellis answered. "It will be up to Grey _and_ Green Strike to afford him as much protection as possible. We have no way of knowing how aware Goren is going to be. We need to anticipate that he may be confused, disoriented, weak, and injured. There is a strong possibility that we may have to physically carry him out, because he may not be capable of standing on his own, let alone walking out of there. There are a hell of a lot of variables, people, and we need to be ready for all of them.

"Now, once we're away from there, Blue Strike will split up and exit Blue Cove via different routes. It's been planned to time out precisely, and all seven vehicles should reach the rendezvous point within minutes of each other. That is especially important. Make no mistake, they _will_ try to come after us. So, from the moment the first vehicle arrives at the rendezvous, those three choppers should be able to take off within ten minutes. Understood? There will be no time to waste."

A murmur of agreement swept across the team, and Ellis nodded.

"All right. You all know what you're doing now. I believe we're as ready for this as we can be." He paused, checking his watch before speaking again. "It's twenty-thirty now. Red Strike will need to move out in half an hour. Everyone else, try and get some rest. We move out at twenty-two hundred hours, exactly."

* * *

"I hate waiting."

The comment came from Mike Logan, to no one's great surprise.

"We all want to get moving, Mike," Carolyn murmured. "We just have to be patient."

"We've been patient for nine friggin' months," Mike snapped. "I'm fed up with waiting! I want to go in there, and get him out!"

"Calm down, Logan," Elliot advised him. "You're going to need a cool head when you go into that place. Now, I know that must be tough for a guy with _your_ reputation, but try to think of Goren, huh?"

Throwing an angry look in Elliot's direction, Mike got to his feet and stalked away from their small group.

"A little sensitive, isn't he?" Munch snorted.

"Don't mock him," Alex growled defensively. "Mike has helped to hold our entire squad together over the last nine months. He's been there for me, too, and if you're going to mock him, don't you dare do it in front of me."

Getting up, Alex headed after Mike, leaving them to sit in guilty silence. Carolyn watched Alex's retreating figure for a long moment before speaking quietly to Elliot.

"That was uncalled for."

To his credit, Elliot did look sincerely apologetic.

"I know," he murmured. "I'm sorry. I guess this waiting is getting to me, too."

"None of us like waiting, but you have to understand… Alex, Mike, Captain Deakins and I… and Oliver, Jackson and King, too… We've been waiting for nine months for the chance to rescue Bobby. _Nine months_! And it's never gotten any easier. Like Alex said, Mike has really held us together, even though he's been hurting over it as much as the rest of us. So, if he's a little impatient now to get going, I can understand that. It isn't fair to belittle him like that, not when for the past nine months everything he's done has been with thoughts of Bobby in his mind. He's deliberately toned down his style… been careful about what he's said and done, all to avoid anyone making a complaint against him. He's done that to make things as easy on our squad as possible, and all with a view to eventually getting Bobby back. It's been hard for him… so don't sit there and mock him for being anxious now."

"He really does like Goren, doesn't he?" Olivia mused. Carolyn nodded.

"He and Bobby had become good friends. They were just really starting to get to know each other when Bobby was taken. These last nine months have been really hard on him."

Fin glanced down at the watch he'd been issued, along with the rest of the clothing.

"Nearly nine. We'll be moving out in an hour. It won't be long now."

* * *

Alex found Mike on the far side of the secluded field where the team had temporarily camped itself. He crouched on the damp grass, checking over the gun he'd taken, ensuring it was fully loaded. She stood watching him in silence for nearly a minute before he sensed her presence, and glanced up.

"He didn't mean to insult you," she said quietly as she walked over and crouched beside him.

"I know," Mike muttered. "I didn't take offence. If I did, he'd have a broken nose and a fat lip."

Alex smiled.

"Fair enough. So why come over here on your own?"

Mike sighed softly, and slid the gun back into its holster.

"This is killing me, Alex. We've got to get him out of there. We… We just have to."

She leaned in and rested her head lightly on his shoulder.

"We will, Mike. There's not long to go, now. Just over an hour, and we'll have to move."

Mike slipped an arm around her shoulders, and hugged her gently. Alex was silence for a while, simply enjoying the quiet moment, before speaking again.

"Mike… Thankyou."

He glanced at her, puzzled.

"For what?"

"For everything."

A wry smile touched his lips.

"That's pretty broad, Alex."

She sighed and stood up, and he rose up with her. The surprise on his face was palpable when she slipped her arms around his waist and leaned in against him. After taking a moment to regroup, Mike reciprocated and folded his arms gently around her in a warm embrace.

"Thankyou for everything you've done with us… for us… and for Bobby… since we first met you," Alex told him. "For backing Bobby up in the Federal prison that time… and don't say you didn't have a choice. And since you joined Major Case, you haven't acted like most of the guys on the squad. You don't laugh at Bobby when his back is turned. You don't mock his techniques… You don't mock _him_."

"I don't do that to my friends, Alex."

"That's just it, though. You were willing to get to know Bobby, and become friends, and that's more than any of the other guys in Major Case were willing to do. Sure, they've come together for him in the last nine months, but that's more out of loyalty… the thin blue line, and all of that crap. He already had your support before that, and it meant a lot to him. You know, he told me once that he was still trying to figure out why a popular guy like you would want to spend any time at all outside of work with someone like him."

Mike's eyebrows shot up.

"He told you that? It didn't occur to him that maybe I just liked hanging out with him?"

"That's what I told him," Alex insisted, "but he never really believed me."

"Man, for a genius, he really could be dumb," Mike retorted, and Alex had to smile.

"I'll never forget the look on his face the first time you invited him to join you for a drink and a game of pool after work."

"You mean that 'deer caught in headlights' look that he gets?"

Alex laughed softly.

"Mm, that's the one. He spent the whole afternoon analysing why you asked him. I had a stack of paperwork to do, but he kept interrupting me with theories that were getting more and more ridiculous as the day went on. I ended up swatting him across the head and telling him to just go and enjoy himself. And he did."

"I'm surprised he didn't get why we connected," Mike mused. "We've got a lot more in common than anyone thinks. We each had an abusive, alcoholic parent… My mom, and his dad. And we each had a parent who left us too early in the game. My dad, when he died, and his mom, when she got sick. And we both could've gone either way. And just because we're different personalities didn't mean we couldn't be friends."

"Well, thankyou," Alex murmured, hugging him fiercely, "for being his friends. It meant a lot to him."

"It meant a lot to both of us."

Silence met his words, and for a few minutes the two of them simply stood there, holding each other. Mike felt the telltale tremor pass through Alex's body before he actually heard the broken sob, and instinctively tightened his grip on her a matter of seconds before she collapsed against him, crying helplessly.

"I want him back," she choked out, her voice muffled by his top. "Mike, I want him back!"

"I know," he whispered. "So do I. Just hold on for a little while longer, and this time tomorrow, we'll all be safe, together. You, me, Carolyn, Deakins _and_ Bobby. We'll have him back with us soon."

He paused, looking in the general direction of Blue Cove as he hugged Alex to him. "And when we've got him back safe with us, those bastards are going to regret ever taking him to begin with."

* * *

The three members of Red Strike moved out promptly at nine, as planned. Silence fell on the camp, and the minutes ticked by with painful slowness. At ten precisely, Ellis got up from where he'd been in conference with Jarod and the team leaders, and spoke just loud enough for all to hear.

"Pack it up, people. We're moving out. Let's go rescue Bobby Goren."

* * *

_tbc..._

**A/N:**_ **Next chapter - the rescue...**_


	17. The Rescue

_The Centre  
__Earlier that evening_

Ever since Jarod's phone call earlier that afternoon, Miss Parker had found herself unable to concentrate on anything that she was supposed to be doing. In the end, after hours of shuffling papers around on her desk, and intermittent pacing, she gave up any pretence of working, and headed out of her office to find one of the few people in the entire place that she trusted implicitly – although she would never have admitted that to anyone.

She found him in Sydney's office, sitting watching cartoons with a companion who seemed more interested in the paper crane in his hands than what was on the screen.

"What the hell are you doing, Broots?" she asked, trying to hide her amusement at the almost innocent delight on the other man's face as he watched the _Tom & Jerry_ episode that was playing out. True to form, Broots almost fell off his chair at the sound of her voice, almost ending up on his butt on the floor.

"Th… Therapy," he stammered. "For… For Angelo. Sydney's idea."

She looked back at Angelo, noting again that his attention was focused on the paper crane, and not on the television screen.

"Where is Sydney?" she asked, keeping her voice deliberately low, even though Angelo was the only other person in the room.

"He went to the Director's office," Broots answered, following her lead and keeping his voice low as well. "You know… about Bobby. He's hoping he can convince the Director to order Raines to let him see him."

She snorted.

"Not likely. Raines has got control of him now. He won't let Sydney back into the loop, not without one hell of a fight."

"You know, no one's seen Bobby since Raines moved him down to the new wing in Sub-level 26? Man, the stories I've been hearing are enough to give me nightmares!"

"And they're probably all fairy tales, compared to what that psychotic son of a bitch is actually doing. Listen to me carefully, Broots. I need you to do something for me… unofficially."

It really was fascinating, she mused, watching his face turn so many different shades of white in such a short space of time.

"Un… Unofficial?"

"Calm down, Broots. I'm not asking you to go sneaking around anywhere. What I want you to do is monitor the security system carefully over the next few weeks. Keep an eye out for anything unusual… Especially anything that might suggest someone might be trying to override any part of the security in order to get in unnoticed."

Broots' eyes went impossibly wide.

"You think someone's going to try break into the Centre?"

"Yes," she answered softly. "Jarod."

"J… Jarod? Why?"

"To rescue Bobby," she answered.

"Why would he risk it?" Broots argued. "With Bobby here, Jarod's free! The Centre doesn't have any interest in him anymore!"

"He'll come, because I asked him to," Parker said flatly, and Broots stared at her in open shock.

"You… _You_ asked him?"

"That's right. I told him to get his ass back here now, or there won't be anything left worth rescuing."

"Okay…" Broots muttered. "So… You want me to keep an eye out for Jarod, so we can catch him when he comes for Bobby?"

"No," Parker said in a barely audible whisper. "If you notice anything… Anything at all… I don't want to know about it. Do you understand me, Broots? You keep it to yourself. And do whatever you have to in order to keep anyone else in this God-forsaken building from knowing about it, too. Am I making myself clear?"

Broots stared at her, thoroughly confused.

"You… _want_ Jarod to rescue Bobby?"

"Just do what I ask," she growled.

A hand closing over her own startled her, and she looked around to find Angelo standing there, staring at her with a discerning gaze.

"Miss Parker… wants to help," he said softly, and his tone was intensely sad. Acutely aware of Broots' wide-eyed stare, she reached out and cupped Angelo's cheek tenderly for a moment before stepping away and striding over to the door. She paused there for just a moment, firing a warning look at Broots before leaving the two men alone once more.

* * *

_10.27pm_

Broots was almost falling asleep at his desk. He had spent over four hours navigating the Centre's intricate security system and rerouting all the alert procedures, so that he would be the first and only person to be notified of any breaches in security. He still wasn't sure what Miss Parker was expecting to happen, but he'd never questioned anything that she'd asked him to do in the past… Well, _almost_ nothing… And he wasn't going to start now.

He sighed softly, and rubbed at his eyes, trying desperately to stay awake long enough to finish the reroute. It had already been a hell of a long day for him before Miss Parker made her request, and now he just wanted to get home, and see his daughter.

Another sigh escaped him – this one a sigh of relief that Debbie was old enough now to be left at home without a baby-sitter. He couldn't help but wonder, though, how much she was starting to resent the time he was giving over to his job. He loved his daughter dearly, but he loved his job as well. It was just a pity about the company that employed him…

A soft beeping jolted Broots almost painfully back into awareness, and he peered at the screen in front of him blankly for nearly a minute before he suddenly realised what was happening. The newly rerouted security system had picked up unauthorised movement both inside the Centre _and_ on its immediate borders. Inside the building itself, it appeared there were at least three people moving about in sub-level 27, the very lowest sub-level of the Centre.

Broots sucked in a sharp breath, and wondered whether this was the breach that Miss Parker had alluded to. His first instinct was to call her straight away, but then her words filtered back to him; that he wasn't to call her, that she did not want to know.

Feeling a distinct prick of fear, Broots consciously told himself to calm down, and he sat back to watch for further developments.

* * *

_11pm_

Black, Green and Grey Strike entered the service tunnel together. At eleven-fifteen, Black Strike would move in and proceed to cut the power to the building, with the express intention of giving Green Strike the time they needed to get in and secure the ground floor, the main entrance and the tower. None of them were under any illusions that their offensive would go unchallenged, but the more ground they could cover before any sort of retaliation began would just add to their slim advantage. That was all the black-out was meant to do – provide some small advantage against the frightening odds they faced.

No one spoke, and the only thing exchanged were knowing glances. They each knew their tasks back to front by now, and all were anxious to carry them out.

Mike Logan glanced around at those who surrounded him. In immediate proximity to him was Carolyn. If he wasn't mistaken, she was whispering a prayer under her breath, but he couldn't quite understand it. Nor did he care to. Granted, he'd prayed to God more in the last twelve hours than he had for a long time, but his prayers were more unsophisticated, and very basic in their composition.

_God, let us get him out of there alive._

He didn't beg or barter. He wasn't going to offer to do anything he wasn't prepared to carry through on in exchange for a successful mission. He just hoped that the God that had allowed his paedophile priest to assault the boys in his parish was compassionate enough to give Bobby back to them, alive.

Nearby, Elliot and Olivia crouched close together. Again, neither said a word, but the silent communication shared between them negated any need for verbal exchange. He could see the tension rippling through their bodies – the same as his own… the same as everyone there. They were ready to move. They _wanted_ to move. It was like… Hell, he didn't even have a frame of reference in his own mind to compare the tension that was building amongst them all.

They _needed_ to get going, but necessity dictated they stand their ground, and wait for the designated moment.

Mike let his breath out in a quiet hiss. It was a going to be a frenzy when they did finally get the signal to move. They all wanted the same thing; to go in, find Bobby and get out again fast. It was entirely possible that, from the moment Green Strike entered the actual building, the entire operation could be over with in less than an hour. They could all be on the choppers by one o'clock, and on their way to their various destinations.

The building tension was almost intolerable.

A further glance around revealed Deakins, standing further back with Jarod, Ellis, Fin, and the SEAL that completed Grey Strike. It had been a curious thing, to observe Deakins over the last ten hours, particularly since they'd been divided into teams.

It almost seemed to Mike that Deakins didn't want to be a part of Grey Strike, and he couldn't help but wonder why. His own disappointment had been acute at the realisation that he wouldn't be a part of that select team whose mission it was to find Bobby. Perhaps, he mused grimly, it was that Deakins was afraid of what they would find.

It was a perfectly legitimate fear, Mike had to concede. They had all been warned that it was a very real possibility that they would find Bobby dead. Despite confirmation that he was alive as of however many hours ago, they had no guarantee that Bobby would still be that way when they got to him.

It was a scenario none of them wanted to face.

Movement ahead of him effectively derailed Mike's train of thought, and he looked to see the six members of Black Strike heading away down the tunnel that would lead them into the bowels of the Centre. A glance at his watch confirmed that it was precisely eleven-fifteen.

Mike grimaced, and adjusted the balaclava he now wore. Twenty-five minutes to go.

* * *

_11.20pm_

Broots leaned forward in his seat, blinking hard to keep his tired gaze focused. Something was definitely happening on the eastern side of the Centre's main building. He frowned, and switched his screen over to the security monitors that had been installed at the point where the service tunnel intersected with the Centre. According to the feed from the security monitors, nothing was amiss, and yet the motions sensors had picked up on definite movement in that area.

As near as he could tell, there were at least five people moving along the tunnel – possibly more. Broots' heart pounded in his chest, and as he watched the situation that was developing in front of him. He hoped and prayed that whatever was going on, it was the rescue attempt that Miss Parker seemed to be anticipating. Because, if it wasn't…

He groaned softly, and reached for a bottle of antacid. This goddamned place was going to give him an ulcer.

* * *

Munch followed the SEALs along the tunnel, his breath sounding painfully loud in his own ears as he tried to be as silent as possible.

To start with, he hadn't been especially pleased to find himself assigned to Black Strike, but he'd not complained. Ellis had said it succinctly when he told them they were a team, and needed to act like it if they were going to be successful. They _were_ all a part of the one team, and there was no room for any one person to want to be the big hero.

And so he'd accepted his given role with good grace.

As it turned out, he figured he was probably in a better position than most of his colleagues. He was with the team that was going in first – Red Strike notwithstanding – and when their particular task was complete, it had been decided that they would join Green Strike, and help to keep the primary areas secure.

More than that, though, Munch was particularly eager for a look inside the Centre – before it was blown sky high. Yes, the Centre was the focus of one of the many conspiracy theories that he subscribed to. Unlike many, though, it was one that he'd made a point of keeping to himself. He'd always believed the Centre was an actual place, and to have one theory confirmed like this was too good an opportunity to pass up; as was the chance to be involved in putting the place out of business.

They came to a grating that covered a hole which was just big enough for a man to go through hunched over. The team leader gave a shove, and the grating rolled easily to the side, clearing the hole. He said nothing, only motioning with a pre-arranged hand signal to give the go-ahead. A ripple of excitement swept through the team, and they made their way through the opening, and into the Centre.

* * *

_11.35pm_

Broots was just about ready to call Miss Parker, despite her strict warning to him. From what he could tell, there was at least eight or nine unauthorised people inside the Centre, and several more on the outskirts. This was far more than anything Broots had anticipated from Jarod. It smacked more of something Mr Lyle might have done, rather than Jarod.

Whatever the explanation, the one thing Broots was certain of was that he was afraid. Starkly, horribly afraid.

The sound of his door opening was unexpected, and yelled in fright before realising who it was.

"S… Sydney? Wha… What are you doing here so late?" he stammered, pointlessly trying to mask his agitation. Sydney regarded him critically.

"I was about to ask you the same thing, Broots."

"I… ah… Miss Parker… She asked me to, uh… check on the security… I was running d… diagnostics…"

Sydney raised an eyebrow at the stuttered explanation, but didn't question him further.

"I just finished meeting with the Director. She has finally agreed to give me access to Bobby. Raines will be ordered to bring him to the infirmary tomorrow, so that I can assess his condition."

"Th… That's good news," Broots agreed, only to falter as he saw a familiar gleam in Sydney's eyes. "Sydney? What are you planning…?"

"I'm going to get him out of here, Broots," Sydney admitted in a whisper. "I don't yet know how, but somehow… I'm going to get Bobby out here, before Raines kills him."

"You may not have to," Broots whispered back, his attention returning to the computer. Sydney leaned in over his shoulder, also looking at the monitor.

"What do you mean?"

Broots let his breath out in a rush. He knew what Miss Parker had warned him, but if he couldn't trust Sydney, then who could he trust…?

"Miss Parker would kill me if she knew I was telling you this, but she spoke to Jarod. She, um… She told him to come and get Bobby out. She _asked_ Jarod to rescue him, Sydney."

To Broots' quiet wonder, Sydney showed no surprise, and all he offered was a sad smile.

"That is good to know, Broots. But how long might it take Jarod to plan and execute a rescue? I don't believe Bobby will last that long."

"No, Sydney," Broots whispered urgently. "That's what I'm trying to tell you." He pointed shakily to the monitor. "I… I think he might already be here."

Sydney stared at the monitor for nearly a minute before speaking in a tense whisper.

"Broots, stay here and don't let anyone else know about this. Understood?"

Broots barely had time to nod before Sydney was gone. He was just turning back to the monitor when the lights flickered once, and went out.

* * *

_11.40pm_

They were on the move almost before he was consciously aware of it. One moment, they had been crouching in the dark, their collective breath the only sound to be heard. Then, a single flash of green light lit up the tunnel just ahead of them, and suddenly they were surging forward.

Mike found himself swept to the front of the strike team, joining Ellis. Carolyn was only a step behind him, he discovered when he risked a glance over his shoulder. They locked stares with each other for the briefest of moments and, in that split second, Mike saw a world of hope reignited in his partner's eyes.

It was a hope he felt as well. The time for waiting was over. It was time to act.

They moved at a fast trot, less concerned now with subtlety than with speed. They'd been given three minutes to get into the Centre, and position themselves to secure the designated areas. The time for subtlety was long past.

Reaching the grating, Ellis led the way through, and into the Centre.

* * *

Sydney reached his office at much the same time as Miss Parker, and a single glance told each one that the other knew what was really going on.

"Broots said you spoke to Jarod," Sydney said as he went to his filing cabinet and unlocked it. Parker frowned at the apparent breach of trust.

"remind me to have a word with him when this is over."

"Relax, Parker. You had the same idea I did. You just got in first. The question is who is responsible for what is happening right now? Is it Jarod, or is it someone else entirely?"

"I never thought I'd say this," Parker answered ruefully, "but I hope to God that it is Jarod." She paused, and then laughed humourlessly. "I am _such_ an idiot."

"What is it?" Sydney asked as he lifted a metal case out of the top drawer of the cabinet.

"Jarod called me _this_ afternoon. He wanted to know if Bobby was still alive. That's when I told him he needed to get back here and get Bobby out. It never even occurred to me that he was already on his way."

"That was probably for the best," Sydney murmured under his breath. Parker ceased her pacing, and walked over to see what her colleague was doing.

"Sydney, what is that?"

"This case, Parker, hold copies of every sim and every experiment that Bobby has suffered through over the last nine months… Both Raines' projects, and mine. If Bobby is to have any chance of recovering from this, Jarod will need to know exactly what has been done to him. I need to get this to Jarod."

Parker lifted the lid of the case, and blanched visibly at the number of discs stacked inside.

"There must be at least two hundred sim discs in here!" she burst out.

"Actually, there are two hundred and twenty-seven," Sydney confirmed grimly. "In the time that Bobby has been in Raines' control, he's been forced to perform at least one simulation every day. Sometimes two, or even more. I just hope that if this is Jarod attempting a rescue, that it isn't too late to repair the psychological damage that has been done."

"If it is Jarod," Parker said slowly, "then he may not know that Bobby isn't in sub-level anymore."

Sydney quickly realised what Parker was getting at, and started gathering up the case, along with eight or nine green notebooks.

"I'm going down to sub-level twelve."

He was almost to the door when the first gunshots shattered the unnatural silence that had fallen over the place since the blackout hit just a few minutes previous. Drawing her gun, Parker moved to the doorway.

"You'd better stay here, Sydney. I don't want you getting shot. If it is Jarod, I'll send him your way. All right?"

Sydney looked reluctant, but opted against arguing when another burst of gun fire broke the stillness.

"All right, Miss Parker. But hurry."

She was almost out the door when he caught her by the arm.

"Miss Parker, wait. Where is Raines? If he thinks for a second that this is a diversion for a rescue attempt…"

"Relax, Syd," Parker murmured as she peered out into the dimness beyond Sydney's office. "Uncle Fester is in Florida. He flew out this morning after getting an urgent message from an anonymous source about one of his projects down there…"

She trailed off, and both she and Sydney came to the same conclusion at the same moment.

"Jarod!" they exclaimed together. Hope flared in Sydney's eyes. If Raines was out of the Centre, then no order could be given to execute Bobby. Unless Lyle…

"Hurry, Parker!" Sydney hissed, even as she took off towards the stairs.

* * *

Jarod and Ellis had planned it out very well. At the time that Green Strike entered the building, the Centre was operating on a night-shift skeleton staff, and there were very few people still there. Subsequently, when Green Strike burst out into the foyer on the ground floor, they were confronted by just two cleaners who were standing guard by the main entrance.

Caught off-guard by the sudden appearance of a team of armed individuals, the cleaners were only just unholstering their weapons when designated members of the team opened fire on them, using special rubber bullets. The two men went down, in pain but alive.

"Okay, secure those two," Jack said, and two of the team moved in to handcuff and gag the cleaners. They were almost done when Elliot gave a muffled shout, and fired his gun. Jack turned swiftly to find another Centre operative on the floor, his gun discarded in favour of clutching at his knee, which Elliot had shot out on him.

"Nice shot," Jack said approvingly as he strode over to the man and picked up the discarded gun. "Tell me, pal, are you going to give us any trouble?"

His answer was a frantic shake of the head.

"Good answer," Jack told him. "You stay still and quiet, and my people might decide _not_ to let you bleed out. Understand?"

Another desperate nod. Jack paused, and then crouched down next to him.

"I'm going to ask a couple of questions, and you're going to cooperate and answer truthfully. And no, that was not the first question, that was a statement of fact. _Here_ is the first question. Do you know anything about the man the Centre abducted nine months ago to replace their pretender, Jarod?"

A slow, reluctant nod answered that question.

"Do you know if he's still alive?"

Another nod.

"Okay, that's good," Jack murmured. "Now, for the technical side of things. How many of your lot are on duty tonight? Ballpark figure."

"Half… half a dozen… per floor…" came the hoarse reply. "That's from SL-1 down to… to SL-26. No… No one's in the tower tonight."

"So how many more men are on this floor?"

"None. Skeleton staff… This floor never has more than three men on it at night time."

"Good. And has an alert gone out about the blackout?"

"Not about the blackout… That happens often enough that we don't worry too much… But I alerted cleaners on SL-1 and SL-2 when I heard the gun shots."

"Fuck," Jack hissed. "Okay, pal, you've done good for yourself. Now you get to ensure that we won't kill you. You're going to pick up your radio, and send the message that everything's fine, and the gunshots were just a one of you clowns getting spooked by a shadow." He lifted his gun, and pressed the barrel lightly to the man's forehead. "Do you understand me? If you so much as blink the wrong way, it'll be lights out, _permanently_."

The man went even whiter than he already was, and he reached quickly for his radio. As well paid as he was, he wasn't paid enough to risk getting shot in the head. Activating it, he spoke in as calm a tone as he could.

"Come in, C5. Come in, C9."

There was a loud crackle as the respective teams responded.

"_C9 here. What's going on up there, Travis?_"

"_C5 here. Do you need assistance?_"

"Negative," the cleaner answered, his eyes fixed on Jack and his gun as he spoke. "Everything's okay up here. It was just Danny. Stupid kid got spooked and started shooting at his own goddamned shadow."

Laughter erupted over the radio.

"_That's what they get for putting a green kid on graveyard shift. Tell him to go change his diapers and get back to work!_"

"I'll do that," Travis answered. "C1 out."

He released his hold on the radio, allowing Jack to ease it out of his hand.

"Very good… Travis, was it? You just bought yourself a ticket out of here. Now just sit tight, and don't be a pain in the ass, and my people will treat you right. Understand?"

"Yeah…" Travis muttered. Patting him condescendingly on the shoulder, Jack rose up and turned back to the waiting team members.

"According to our new friend here, the tower is unoccupied tonight. So we just need to disable the elevator that goes up there from the sub-levels… That one over there. It runs on an emergency power system. Ben…?"

"I got it," King confirmed, and hurried off to the elevator along with his two sub-team colleagues. Jack watched them go, and then turned back to the rest of the group.

"All right. Jerry, Zach and Tommy, I want you three to keep this area secure. You'll be joined by Black Strike shortly, and it'll be up to all of you to keep this floor clear so that we don't run into any trouble when we come back up. You know what you have to do. The rest of us are heading down now into the sub-levels, and I'm going to signal for Grey Strike to move in."

* * *

_11.57pm_

Deakins waited in silence, listening only and not attempting to add to the low murmuring discussion that Ellis and Jarod were carrying on with while they waited for the signal from Green Strike. The truth was, he was almost sick to his stomach with nerves, waiting to get moving. He almost wished he had been assigned to Green Strike… or even Black Strike, because then he would at least have been doing _something_. He hated waiting, especially in times like this when there was so much at stake.

He adjusted the balaclava on his face, trying to ignore the itchiness that it was causing. He couldn't remember the last time he had worn one of these things… In fact, he didn't think he had ever worn one. It was an irony that he couldn't get over, that he'd spent so long working to put criminals behind bars and now, regardless of the reasons, he sneaking around like the very thing he abhorred.

He shut his eyes, and tried to focus on Bobby's face in his mind. Over the last nine months, he'd tried hard _not_ to do this, mainly because when he'd spent any significant time dwelling on Bobby, the younger man's face inevitably found its way into his dreams, twisting them into horrendous nightmares. Now, though, he found it soothing to his nerves to focus on Bobby's face, and to shut out the anxiety that was threatening his very sanity.

Not long now, he thought, and took some small comfort in the thought.

A soft beep cut into the quiet, and Deakins looked just in time to catch a flash of green light in the darkness. The light had emanated from a device that was strapped to Ellis' wrist – a homemade radio device that Jarod had made, which had been given to each team leader. The green light told them that Green Strike had successfully completed phase one of their part of the plan, and secured the ground floor.

Ellis looked around at the rest of the men that made up Grey Strike, taking in the anxiety in their eyes that he imagined mirrored his own.

"Let's go," he said simply, and hurried away down the tunnel.

* * *

Jarod led the way into the Centre and without a moment's hesitation he led the team into the utility stairwell, and down several flights of steps at a rapid speed, until they reached a door marked SL-12. Acting with caution, Jarod pulled open the door and led the way out into the corridor.

"Which way?" Ellis asked softly. Jarod motioned to the right.

"Down there. The room they keep him in is down that way, around that far corner.

Ellis took off at a run, with the others close behind.

* * *

They emerged around the corner to find the members of Green Strike had arrived there just ahead of them, and they were not alone.

"Look at what we found on our way down here," Jack said dryly, pushing a sullen-looking Mr Lyle ahead of him. Jarod walked forward, pulling off his balaclava so that he could look at Lyle properly.

"Jarod," Lyle said softly. "Just couldn't help yourself, could you? You're a free man, finally, but your precious conscience couldn't just let you enjoy it."

"I could never abandon Bobby," Jarod said angrily. "You, of all people, should have known that."

"Jarod," Lyle said in a tone that was almost a sigh. "The Centre lost you. Do you really think it would risk losing Bobby?"

It was all Jarod could do to stifle his fury.

"We _are_ taking him out of here, _tonight_, and there's nothing you can do to stop us."

The sour look was replaced all-too-quickly with a smug grin, and he motioned to the room.

"Fine. Go ahead. Be my guest."

Suddenly suspicious, Jarod reached for the door and tried it. It swung open easily, having not been locked for well over two months. Jarod stood in the doorway, staring into the empty room with a sinking feeling in his gut. Lyle had known they wouldn't find Bobby there. He only hoped and prayed that Bobby was still somewhere within the Centre.

"Where is he?" Jarod asked softly. Lyle only chuckled.

"That's for me to know, and you _not_ to find out."

Jarod spun around, and grabbed Lyle by the collar of his shirt, yanking him in close.

"_Where is he?_"

Lyle, however, only laughed.

"You're not going to find him. He's out of your reach, totally. Why don't you just cut your losses, and get out of here while you still can?"

"You son of a bitch," Mike snarled, lunging forward, dragging Lyle out of Jarod's grip and slamming him back against the wall. "You tell us where he is, or I swear to God, I _will_ shoot you."

Lyle's grin widened to almost impossible proportions.

"Hey, go ahead. Wouldn't be the first time. 'Course, since I'm the only one in the building right at this moment who knows exactly where Bobby is, you'd be kind of screwing yourselves over…"

"And you'd be an expert on _that_, wouldn't you, Lyle?"

Lyle's grin faded with startling abruptness at the new voice.

"What the hell are _you_ doing here?"

Miss Parker approached slowly, gun holstered and hands outstretched to show the strike teams that she was not there for a fight. Ignoring Lyle, she focused her attention on Jarod.

"Bobby is on SL-26. That's where Raines moved him over two months ago."

"And you expect us to trust you?" Carolyn asked sceptically. Jarod spoke quickly.

"We can trust her. She's telling us the truth."

"I'll take you to him," Parker told them sincerely. "But Jarod, you need to go to Sydney's office. He's waiting there, and he has something you're going to want."

Jarod frowned a little, but didn't argue, turning instead to Ellis and speaking urgently.

"Take the team, and go with Miss Parker."

"Jarod…" Ellis growled. "This was not in the plan…"

"Flexibility, remember?" Jarod reminded him. "I have to go."

"All right," Ellis conceded. "But at least take one of these guys with you. I'll feel a lot better if you don't go alone."

"Okay," Jarod conceded with obvious reluctance. He looked around, and his gaze went to Mike. The detective hesitated, and then nodded.

"Right with you," he confirmed.

"Go," Jarod told Ellis. "Find Bobby, and get him out. We'll meet you outside, just like we planned."

"And what do we do with this clown?" Ellis asked, motioning to Lyle.

"I can answer that," Parker said, and she shoved Lyle brutally into Bobby's old room, locking the door after him.

"I like that irony," Ellis chuckled. "Okay, Miss Parker. Lead the way."

* * *

Sydney was pacing back and forth almost frantically in his office when a voice spoke just behind him, almost startling him out of his skin.

"Miss Parker said you have something to give me."

Sydney spun around, and then let his breath out in a rush.

"Jarod, thank God. We weren't positive that it was you…"

"We don't have time to chat, Sydney," Jarod cut him off. "What is it?"

Glancing uneasily past Jarod to Mike, Sydney lifted up the case, and the notebooks.

"Here. Copies of the simulations that Bobby has performed for us. There are also discs of the experiments Raines conducted on him."

Jarod's gaze narrowed as he looked at the notebooks.

"Are those what I think they are?"

Sydney confirmed with a nod.

"Yes. Whilst he was still in my care, I encouraged him to plan out any ideas he had in these books. There are some very good ideas and inventions in them. Given time, Bobby may look back on them, and feel that he'd like to put some of them to practical use."

Jarod accepted the case, and the books, and was just turning to go when Sydney called after him.

"Jarod, wait…"

"What?" Jarod demanded, his voice taking on an edge that Sydney had never heard from him before. Sydney faltered, staring at Jarod in visible confusion. After a moment, the pretender turned back and spoke in a tense, angry voice.

"What do you want from me, Sydney? Some sort of absolution? Do you want me to tell you everything's okay? Well, it's not, and it may never be okay. You might have been the one to warn me that the Centre wanted Bobby back, and I appreciate it, but when it came down to it, you just went along with everything they did. When you had Bobby here, what did you really do to protect him? You could have gotten him out, but you didn't. Instead, you used him, just like you used me. You betrayed him, Sydney, and the hard truth is that he might never recover from this. You know it as well as me. So… what, exactly, _do_ you want me to say?"

Sydney's shoulders slumped as the truth of Jarod's words finally hit home. For several seconds, he said nothing, the grief evident in his eyes. Then, finally, he spoke softly.

"Tell Bobby I'm sorry."

Jarod stood stiffly for a long moment before turning and striding from the office without saying a word. Mike paused for just a moment longer before following him.

* * *

Ellis and the now combined Grey and Green Strike teams followed Miss Parker down the stairs, passing each sub-level at a startling speed.

"I hope you have something in mind for getting back up to ground level," Parker told Ellis grimly, "because I don't like your chances of getting Bobby to walk up twenty-six flights of stairs."

"We've got that covered," Ellis said simply, and Miss Parker didn't ask him to elaborate.

They were just nearing SL-24 when gunfire erupted in the stairwell just below, bullets glancing off the metal railings that were too close for comfort.

"Cleaners," Parker growled. "Lyle must have found a way to alert them."

Ellis clenched his jaw as he switched guns.

"Play time's over, people. Switch from rubber bullets to live ammo, and let's take these clowns out."

Waiting for a break in gunfire, Ellis took the last half dozen steps to the SL-24 landing in one jump. He slammed into the wall, swinging his gun and firing at the three cleaners who had positioned themselves on the half level just down from the entry door to SL-24. Two went down, but the third ducked out of the way, and then swung back around and fired a single bullet that caught Ellis in the right shoulder.

"Son of a bitch," he swore, stumbling backwards and landing on his ass. Miss Parker stepped past him, firing once. The bullet struck the third cleaner right between the eyes, and he was dead before he hit the floor.

"You're one hell of a shot, lady," Ellis grunted as two of his team mates stepped in to help him up. Miss Parker regarded him grimly as she re-holstered her gun.

"It pays to be a good shot when you work for a company where second chances only come with a loaded gun."

Olivia moved forward, examining the shoulder wound with speedy expertise.

"It's not serious, but you're not going to be able to use your gun now."

"You'd better stay in the middle," Deakins warned him, and Ellis conceded.

"Okay, Captain Deakins. It's your show, now."

Deakins resisted the urge to grimace, and he looked around at Miss Parker, his eyes glinting behind the balaclava he wore.

"Take us to Bobby."

* * *

They emerged into SL-26 to find themselves in a dimly lit corridor that had the white, sterile feel of an asylum. Pausing for just a brief moment to get her bearings, Miss Parker turned to the left and led them quickly along the corridor. Not a word was spoken as they moved, and they encountered no cleaners as they hurried around corner after corner. The tension was almost electric by the time she finally halted outside a plain door that was unremarkable except for the digital combination lock.

"I don't suppose you know the combination to open it?" Deakins asked. Miss Parker raised an eyebrow at him, and then drew her gun and fired, shattering the lock with one bullet.

"Thankyou," Deakins said wryly, and she smiled her best piranha smile.

"You're most welcome."

Deakins paused before opening the door, and then looked back at the group that was almost right behind him. If they opened the door, and Bobby was confronted with all these masked faces, it could easily send him into a panic, and that was the last thing they needed.

"Okay, people," Ellis said, reading the look in Deakins' eyes with ease. "Let's back off a little. Olivia and Elliot, move down to that corner, and keep a watch. Dom and Andy, you two take that other end."

The four went immediately. Ellis then nodded to Deakins.

"Okay. Go ahead."

Deakins started to reach out to push the door open, only to stop at the last moment. Before anyone could ask what was wrong, though, he reached up and pulled off his balaclava. Miss Parker gave a short laugh.

"Somehow, I'm not surprised."

He glanced at her, making no effort to hide the bitterness he felt towards her despite her help now, and then stepped forward and pushed open the door.

The sight that met him was one that, for all his imagining of what this moment might be like, he hadn't truly been able to prepare himself for. Sitting huddled on the floor in the far corner of what was a painfully small room, dressed in a pair of ragged sweat pants and nothing else, his torso a mass of cuts and bruises of varying degrees of seriousness, was Bobby Goren.

For several long seconds, Deakins couldn't move. He stood in the doorway, staring at the man who had once been the bane of New York's criminal fraternity, and felt his heart break. Bobby was almost unrecognisable from how he had looked nine months ago, though how much that had to do with his actual physical appearance as opposed to his cowering demeanour Deakins didn't know.

So far, Bobby hadn't looked up and, for all appearances, didn't even seem to be aware that he was no longer alone. He remained sitting in the corner, knees drawn up tightly to his chest and his arms wrapped around his body in what looked like a futile effort to protect himself. As Deakins stood and watched, and listened, he thought he could hear soft whimpers escaping Bobby's lips.

Shaking himself back to reality, Deakins walked forward and crouched down in front of him.

"Bobby."

No response. Bobby didn't look up, or show any sign that he'd heard anything. Deakins tried again, raising his voice a little more.

"Bobby!"

That time, Deakins couldn't miss the way Bobby stiffened. A fresh whimper escaped him, and he seemed to withdraw even further into himself.

"He probably thinks you're Raines," Miss Parker said quietly from the doorway. "After all, Raines's face is probably the only face he's seen for the last two and a half months."

"Bobby, listen to me," Deakins tried again. "We've come to get you out of here."

He hesitated, and then reached out to take hold of Bobby's wrist, with the intention of gently drawing him out. The reaction to the simple contact was immediate, and violent.

Bobby screamed in sheer terror, yanking his hand away from Deakins and cringing back as far as he could, curling into a ball that seemed impossibly small for someone of his size. The terrified sobs that wracked his body gutted Deakins to the core, and he began to get some small inkling of what the road ahead was going to be like.

"Captain, you've got to move him out of there," Ellis called from just outside the room. "We don't have all night."

Deakins scowled, angry and frustrated. He tried again to catch hold of Bobby's hand, only to get the same reaction. Gentle persuasion was going nowhere fast, so that left him just one alternative.

"Detective Goren!" Deakins snapped, putting as much authority into his voice as he could manage to. "Snap out of it! That's an order, Detective First-Grade!"

Slowly, Bobby's sobs quieted, and finally stilled altogether. Heart pounding in his throat and buoyed by his apparent success, Deakins tried again.

"Look at me, Detective. Now!"

For several seconds, Bobby didn't move. But then, slowly, his head came up, and a familiar pair of chocolate brown eyes gazed up at Deakins in visible confusion. Once Bobby's gaze locked with his own, Deakins dropped the tough-ass captain act, and leaned forward, speaking in a gentle but urgent voice.

"Bobby, it's me. Captain Deakins. We've come to get you out, Bobby."

Silence reigned and Deakins waited, hardly daring to breathe as he waited for Bobby to process what was happening. Then, abruptly, recognition flared in his eyes.

"Captain…" he whispered in a heartbreakingly weak voice. Deakins shifted forward, slipping his arms around the younger man even as he broke down once more.

"Yes, it's me," Deakins murmured, hugging Bobby protectively as he cried. "It's me, Bobby. You're not imagining it." He looked around, searching for someone who would be able to help him get Bobby up. "Fin…?"

Fin yanked off his balaclava and slipped into the room, pausing only momentarily at the sight of his old friend. Sucking up any shock he felt, Fin walked over and crouched down next to his friend.

"Bobby, it's me. It's Fin."

Slowly, Bobby looked around, and dim recognition lit up his eyes.

"Fin…"

"We're getting you outta here, Bobby," Fin murmured. "But you've gotta let us help you, and the first thing we gotta do is get you on your feet. Okay, pal?"

Deakins was convinced that Bobby didn't really have any solid idea of what was happening, but the important thing was that he'd ceased struggling, and was finally submitting to their touch. If they could just get him to his feet, then they would be one step closer to getting him out.

Nodding to Fin, Deakins gently took hold of Bobby's right arm, and Fin took his left arm and, between the two of them, they were able to lift Bobby up off the floor, and stand him up. He was disturbingly easy to lift up, both Deakins and Fin noted in sad silence.

"That's good," Deakins murmured. "Now, do you think you can walk to the door?"

For nearly a minute, it seemed that Bobby wasn't going to cooperate. But then, with a painful slowness, he put one bruised foot in front of the other, and began to shuffle forward.

"Good, Bobby," Deakins murmured encouragement to him. "That's great. We're going to be out of here before you know it."

They came to the doorway, and Deakins was grateful to note that Miss Parker had backed right off, out of Bobby's immediate line of sight. As it was, he still froze at the sight of the masked faces that awaited him in the corridor. A panicked whimper escaped him, and he tried to pull back, and retreat back into the tiny room.

"It's okay, Bobby," Deakins reassured him. "They're all friends. No one here is going to hurt you. They're here to help you. They're here to rescue you."

Carolyn came forward, then, carrying a black thermal top, a protective vest and headgear for him. She, too, had taken off her mask, in the hope that Bobby would remember her face, and not be afraid.

"Bobby," she spoke gently but clearly to him. "We're going to put this top on you, okay? Because it's cold outside, and we don't want you to catch a cold."

She kept her voice low, calm and casual, and the tactic seemed to be working. The borderline panic in Bobby's eyes subsided somewhat, giving Carolyn a chance to slip the top over his head. As she did so, she continued to murmur reassurances to him, keeping his frightened gaze fixed on her, and continuing to smile warmly at him. When she started to push his arms up, though, to get them into the sleeves of the top, a strangled cry of pain escaped him, followed by a choked sob.

"His shoulder," Miss Parker said, coming forward. "Raines' goons liked twisting his arm as their preferred means of torture. They twisted it so badly one day that they tore the tendons in his shoulder. It's never been given a chance to heal properly. Here…"

Acutely aware of the violent tremors rippling through Bobby's entire body, Miss Parker gently slipped the sleeve onto one arm, but pressed the injured arm to his torso, and pulled the body of the garment down over the top of his arm, ensuring it was kept protected and still. Carolyn then slipped the vest onto him. When she reached up to put the helmet on, though, he baulked and pulled away, fear lighting up his eyes.

"Bobby, this will keep your head protected," Carolyn tried to convince him, but he was having none of it, and her efforts to get it on him were only increasing his agitation and fear.

"All right," Deakins said finally, making a snap decision. As Ellis had said, they did not have all night. "No headgear. Bobby, look at me."

Bobby's gaze turned slowly from Miss Parker to Deakins, and once again Deakins felt his stomach twist painfully at the hopelessness that he saw in the other man's eyes.

"We are going to walk out of here," he told him softly. "All you have to do is stay with us. Can you do that?"

Bobby's breath hitched in his chest and, finally, he gave a single, shaky nod.

"Good," Deakins murmured. He looked over at Ellis, who nodded in response and lifted a small radio and spoke into it firmly.

"Green Three, reactivate the elevator, and send it to SL-26. We're ready to come back up. All Strike team members, begin Exit Plan One. Proceed to the designated area, _immediately_. The target has been acquired. I repeat, the target has been acquired. Move out, _now_."

* * *

Mike and Jarod both looked at each other sharply as Ellis' words came through on the small radio Jarod was carrying.

"They've got him," Mike whispered, suddenly feeling weak-kneed. Jarod nodded down a corridor.

"That way. Hurry."

Before they had a chance to move, though, a voice called out, floating out to them from the darkness.

"Jarod…"

Mike lifted his gun, but Jarod shook his head, pushing the weapon down. He knew that voice…

Angelo emerged out of the darkness, a strange mixture of anxiety and eagerness on his usually passive features.

"Angelo," Jarod murmured in greeting. "We came for him, like I promised we would."

Angelo nodded confidently.

"Bobby's safe now. Safe with Jarod. Here… Jarod take these…"

And he thrust a sheaf of loose papers into Jarod's hand.

"What is that?" Mike asked, frowning. "Rubbish?"

"Important," Angelo insisted. "Important… to Bobby."

"Angelo, listen to me," Jarod said, slipping the papers into the cover of one of the notebooks without sparing them a glance. "Go to Sydney. Tell him he has to get out of here. We're going to destroy the Centre."

The maniacal look that appeared on Angelo's face was enough to give even Mike pause.

"Centre… boom…"

"That's right," Jarod confirmed. "Very big boom. Go on, quickly. Get Sydney, and get out of here. Go!"

Angelo loped off into the darkness. Jarod waited until he was out of sight before looking back at Mike grimly.

"Okay. Let's get the hell out of here."

* * *

Alex hadn't stopped praying from the moment the members of the Black, Green and Grey Strike teams moved out from the temporary camp. She continued to pray as she took her place behind the wheel of one of the escape cars, and was still praying when she pulled up in a culvert less half a mile away from the Centre.

She sat in silence, with one eye on the Centre and the other on her watch. Eleven-fifteen ticked by; Black Strike would be moving in. She counted the minutes, and watched piercingly. Sure enough, at precisely eleven-forty, the lights of the Centre went dark. Alex sat forward a little, leaning against the steering wheel and watching with her heart in her throat.

It was the hardest thing she had ever done, to sit and wait and do nothing, all the while knowing exactly what was being carried out such a short distance away. It was even harder to stay put, knowing that if this plan failed, for any reason, then she would probably never see Bobby again.

And so the minutes ticked by, so slowly, and she continued to watch and wait, trying to anticipate just when Grey Strike might have gone in, and how long it might take them to find Bobby. She refused to think in variables. Variables meant complications, and she didn't want there to be any complications with this operation.

At twelve oh-five, her radio crackled to life, and Pete's voice spoke.

"_Alex, how're you holding up?_"

It was all Alex could do to keep her voice even as she answered.

"Been better. I just wish I knew what was going on in there."

"_If everything's going to plan, Grey Strike should be in there by now._"

"_Should_," Alex retorted. "Nothing's certain here."

"_Hold tight a little longer, Alex. We'll know as soon as they have him. Then, believe me, it's all going to happen damned fast._"

Alex let her breath out in a rush as she checked her watch once more. Twelve-oh-eight. Nearly half an hour since the power was cut, and there was no indication of what was happening inside the building.

"_On the bright side,_" Pete added, "_no reinforcements have turned up._"

Again, she grimaced. Pete was right, of course. If reinforcements had arrived at the Centre, it would have complicated things in a major way. But so far, it appeared that that had not happened…

The radio crackled to life again, and this time the voice that came through was not Pete's, but Commander Ellis' voice.

"_All Strike team members, begin Exit Plan One. Proceed to the designated area, immediately. The target has been acquired. I repeat, the target has been acquired. Move out, **now**_."

Alex sucked in a sharp breath. The target Ellis referred to was Bobby. They had Bobby… They were coming out…

She'd floored the accelerator and was on her way to the designated point almost before Pete gave the order to move out.

* * *

They split into two groups to head back up to ground level. Half the team headed up the stairs, while Deakins, Ellis, Fin, Carolyn, Olivia and Miss Parker went up in the elevator with Bobby. They surrounded him in a protective circle, weapons at the ready should they encounter trouble when the elevator reached ground level.

Deakins soon found himself almost completely supporting Bobby as the younger man struggled to stay on his feet, and it was a task that he found worryingly easy. Bobby had lost a hell of a lot of weight, Deakins noted in the back of his mind. He just hoped that, like with the psychological and emotional damage that had clearly been done, the physical damage was not irreversible.

Bobby took a small step, and stumbled, his legs threatening to give out beneath him. Deakins caught him around the waist with one strong arm, and hugged him tightly as much for support as for reassurance. Another glance told him again that Bobby didn't really understand what was going on, but he seemed content for the moment to just go along with them, and right then that was all that mattered.

"It's going to be okay," Deakins murmured, trying to reassure himself as much as Bobby. "Not long now, and you'll be safe. We've got you, Bobby. We've got you…"

"Alex…"

Deakins blinked, looking at him in pleased surprise.

"She's waiting for you, Bobby. You'll see her very, very soon. I promise."

Bobby shuddered, and his head dropped once more, a fresh wave of tremors passing through his body.

"However you're planning on getting him out of here," Miss Parker said softly, "you should be aware, he was probably drugged by Raines within the last twenty-four hours. It may cause panic attacks… hallucinations… to say the least."

"We'll cope," Deakins murmured, taking care not to release his grip on Bobby's waist. Not only was it to keep Bobby on his feet, but he also seemed to be comforted by the physical contact. Right then, he was calm… or rather, as calm as he was likely to be… and Deakins was desperate to keep him that way. They were prepared to sedate him if it became necessary, but Miss Parker had nailed it in pointing out that Bobby may or may not have been drugged by Raines within the last twenty-four hours. If they were to give him anything, they risked it reacting against any narcotics that might already be in his system. It was best if they could just keep him calm by natural means.

The elevator door slid open at the ground level to reveal members of Green and Black Strike waiting for them. A quick glance around revealed several bodies lying in bloodied heaps around the floor, in addition to the three cleaners who had been secured during the initial assault.

"They tried to retake the floor," one of the SEALs said simply. "We repelled borders."

Ellis nodded.

"Okay. Any casualties?"

"A couple of our guys got grazed by bullets, but nothing more serious than that."

"Good." He looked around piercingly at the gathered team. "Are we all here?"

His question was answered when a door swung open and six members of the combined Green and Grey strike joined them. From the other direction, Jarod and Mike came through a door, completing their number.

"We are now," the SEAL said, smiling wryly.

"Excellent," Ellis murmured. "Okay, people. Move out! Your transports are waiting!"

The team members promptly headed for the main doors, to exit the building and join the waiting members of Blue Strike. Ellis turned around to face Miss Parker.

"We appreciate your help, Ma'am."

"Why?" Mike demanded, staring at her hard. Parker was silent for a moment, her gaze on Bobby. When she finally answered, it was in a soft, sad voice.

"Because he deserves a life. He doesn't deserve what's been done to him in this place." She looked to Jarod. "I hope you have a plan to keep him safe, because you know they _will_ go after him again."

"We have that covered," Jarod assured her. "Thankyou, Miss Parker."

She motioned to the doors.

"Go. Hurry. Before Lyle gets loose and sends a sweeper team after you."

Jarod paused, watching as Bobby was led to the doors, and out of the Centre, before looking back to Miss Parker.

"I mean that. Thankyou."

She smiled faintly at him, a genuine smile that lit up her face in a way that was truly reminiscent of her late mother.

"Go, Jarod."

He started towards the door, and then turned back to her once more.

"We really do have a plan. I suggest you get up to your office and get anything that's personal, and then get as far away from here as you can."

Her smile faded with startling speed.

"You mean…"

He motioned with his hands to indicate an explosion, and Miss Parker sucked in a sharp breath.

"Oh my god…"

"Get Broots, and get out of here," Jarod warned her. "I've already told Angelo, and he's gone to get Sydney. We'll be sending a warning to the whole building once we're away from here, but don't wait. Just go, get out of here."

She hesitated, and then wheeled around and hurried off to do as he'd told her. Jarod waited until she'd gone before turning and following the strike teams out of the Centre.

* * *

Bobby slowed to a halt as they exited the building, and emerged into the cool, clear night. Deakins looked to him questioningly, only to find Bobby was staring up at the night sky, tears trickling slowly down his cheeks.

"Bobby?" he asked softly.

"The… sky…" Bobby whispered in a broken voice. "The… The stars."

Deakins thought he understood. With the exception of that brief period when he'd managed to escape himself, Bobby had probably not seen daylight for nine months. He was suddenly glad their rescue operation had been executed at night. Had they brought him out into broad daylight, it might just have blinded him.

"Yes, it's the sky," he confirmed. "You're out of there, Bobby. And I swear to you, we'll never let them take you again. C'mon, now. Alex is waiting."

With a shudder, Bobby allowed himself to be guided forward, and down the steps to the waiting car.

* * *

Alex pulled up behind the other cars outside the Centre – one hand on the steering wheel and the other on her gun. They had been incredibly lucky so far, and there was no sign of interference outside the boundaries of the Centre building, but that wasn't to say that trouble wouldn't still appear at any given moment. She watched, breathless, as masked members of the team emerged through the front doors and ran down the steps, bundling into the first cars in the line. Each car ahead of her filled up and took off, on its run to the rendezvous point where the choppers would be waiting.

And then, abruptly, there were only two cars left. Alex looked back to the doors, her heart pounding. What if something had gone wrong…? What if they'd been ambushed just inside? What if…

But there they were.

Tears flooded her eyes before she could stop them as her gaze quickly focused on the slim, hunched figure that Deakins was doing his best to support. It took every ounce of self-restraint she had not to leap out of the car and run to him. Instead, she sat with a grip on the steering wheel that was getting tighter with every second that passed.

She watched as they stopped just outside the door, and Bobby looked up. She thought he said something to Deakins, but couldn't be sure. Then, they were on their way down the steps. Jarod emerged from the doorway behind them, following them down the steps, watching the doorway to ensure no one tried to come after them. When they reached the bottom, they quickly split up, with Jarod and Fin getting into the car ahead of her, along with whoever was already occupying that vehicle. Bobby, to her immense gratitude, was guided to her car, and ushered with extreme care into the back seat.

She watched, her heart in her throat as Deakins got in on one side of Bobby, and Carolyn on the other. Mike slid into the front passenger seat beside her, the relief obvious on his face.

"Okay, Alex," Deakins said firmly. "Get us the hell out of here."

She didn't need to be told twice.

* * *

She found herself half watching the road and half watching Bobby in the rear view mirror. Once in the car, he'd slumped over, his entire body trembling visibly, and faint whimpers and sobs could be heard. Deakins slipped an arm around him and drew him in close in a warm, protective embrace.

"It's okay," he murmured as Bobby sobbed softly into his shoulder. "You're safe. We've got you now, Bobby. We've got you, and we're not letting you go again."

"Is he hurt?" Alex asked, barely able to keep her voice even as she steered the car around a narrow corner.

"His right shoulder is damaged," Carolyn answered. "We don't know how badly. We won't know if there are any other injuries until we get to safety."

"Just get us to the choppers, Alex," Deakins told her. "Once we're on that chopper, then we can all breathe again."

Alex didn't say another word, but none of them missed the way her gaze kept flickering to the mirror, and Mike in particular didn't miss the tears that welled in her eyes as the euphoria of having Bobby back with them faded, and the reality of his broken appearance finally began to sink in.

* * *

They were the last car to arrive. One of the choppers had already left, and the other two transport choppers were ready to lift off at a moment's notice. Deakins slid out of the car and, with Mike's help, guided Bobby out of the car. As they turned him to usher him towards the last chopper, though, something inside him seemed to snap, and the tenuous composure that Bobby had displayed since bringing him out of that tiny room finally broke.

A terrified scream erupted from his lips at the sight of the chopper, and he pulled away from them, breaking free from Deakins' hold on him. In his panic, he overbalanced, stumbled backwards and fell painfully on the grass.

"Bobby!" Deakins burst out, going to him to try and get him back up again. Bobby, however, gave another scream and curled into a tight ball on the grass, shaking helplessly with terror.

"Trick…" he moaned. "It's a trick… Please, don't… Please… I'm sorry… Please take me back… I'll be good… I swear…"

"What the fuck…?" Mike growled.

"He thinks this is all a trick," Jarod said grimly. "Probably something that Raines planted in his mind… and with the drugs that are probably in his system…"

"Bobby, this is no trick," Carolyn tried to tell him, but Bobby was having none of it.

"I'm sorry," he sobbed again. "I'll do what you want… Don't send me there… Please…"

"Send him where?" Ellis wondered. Jarod was pale.

"The last year that I was in the Centre, Raines threatened me when Sydney wasn't around. He told me that if I didn't do as I was told, I'd be taken to the Fortress. It's a Centre-owned estate that can only be accessed by helicopter. People who are sent to the Fortress never come back. That's what he's terrified of."

"We can't move him like this," Ellis said. "He'd be a danger on the flight. We're going to have to risk sedating him."

"Fuck that," Alex snapped, and shoved through the group, striding over and crouching down beside her partner. "Bobby? Bobby, look at me."

He didn't respond, sobbing helplessly where he lay. Alex hesitated, and then reached out to gently smooth back his mussed-up hair. She said nothing, but continued the motion. When, finally, his sobs seemed to ease, she joined that motion with a gentle hand to his cheek. Slowly, oh so slowly, he quieted, and eventually stilled. His eyes remained tightly shut, and the tremors still coursed through his body, but his sobs were finally silenced.

"Bobby," Alex whispered, leaning in as close as she dared. "Bobby, sweetheart, look at me."

* * *

His eyes half-opened, and he found himself gazing up into a face that he had imagined so often over the last nine months, and suddenly he found himself unable to distinguish between fantasy and reality. Alex couldn't possibly be there, he rationalised to himself in a desperate effort to stave off the heartache that so often accompanied his imaginings of her face. And yet… the feel of her hands on him was so real.

She leaned in closer still, until he could feel her breath on his face. Her sweet, warm breath…

* * *

Once she had his attention, and deciding she didn't give a damn what Deakins thought, Alex leaned right in and pressed her lips gently to his bruised cheek.

Insanely, the first thing that occurred to her was that he was clean-shaven. Then, just as quickly, that thought was gone, and her only concern was convincing her partner that nothing that was happening was a trick, or a hallucination.

"Bobby, it's really me," she whispered, her lips still against his cheek. "I'm really here. It's no trick, and you're not imagining anything."

She felt him shudder beneath her tender touch. She slipped her hand into his one free hand, and squeezed gently. She was rewarded with a weak squeeze in return.

"You know I'm real," she whispered into his ear. "Now, you have to get up off your ass, Goren, and get on that goddamn helicopter, so we can get you as far away from this fucking place as possible."

She never raised her voice, and she would never confide in anyone else about what she'd whispered to him. Moments passed and then, to the astonishment of all, Bobby relaxed and allowed Alex to draw him up into a sitting position. From there, Mike and Jarod helped him back up to his feet, and urged him across the grass to the helicopter.

As they helped Bobby into the chopper, Deakins turned to speak to Ellis.

"We'll never be able to repay you for this."

Ellis grinned as they shook hands.

"You want to pay me back, Captain? You take good care of that boy, and see that he recovers properly. You do that, and I'll consider us even."

Deakins nodded, suddenly too choked up to be able to speak. Jarod joined them, and ignored Ellis' outstretched hand in favour of a quick but fierce hug.

"Thankyou, Dan. Thankyou for everything."

"You're welcome, my friend," Ellis murmured. "Take care."

And then he was gone, climbing into the other chopper. Fin hesitated before climbing aboard, instead running back to the last chopper. He stood at the open door of the aircraft, speaking when he managed to catch Bobby's gaze.

"Take care, Bobby. I'll be waiting for when you come home, okay?"

He didn't wait for a response, instead nodding to Deakins and the other Major Case detectives, and hurrying back to the other chopper. As soon as he was on board, the door slammed shut, and it lifted into the air and was soon on its way back to New York.

"Let's go," Jarod said, urging Deakins onto the chopper to join the others.

While Jarod disappeared up front to pilot the chopper, Deakins took one of the empty seats and quickly strapped himself in. To his right was Carolyn, and on his left was Mike. Immediately opposite him, Bobby sat trembling, hunched over to the side with his head resting on Alex's shoulder. She had her arms around him awkwardly, murmuring softly to him with words that Deakins, Mike and Carolyn couldn't make out.

He never opened his eyes, and continued to cling to Alex for comfort… for reassurance… for protection. When Alex finally looked in their direction, though, Deakins saw the same sorrow in her eyes that was in Mike's and Carolyn's, and that he knew was in his own.

Bobby was physically free from the Centre, finally, but battle to save his heart, mind and soul had only just begun.

* * *

_tbc..._


	18. Arrival

A/N: _I will try to get another chapter or two finished by Thursday this week, because after that I will be on holidays for two weeks, and more or less unable to post anything. If I can get another chapter of this, and 'In The Hour of My Death' done and posted before I go away, then I'll be a happy little vegemite._

* * *

None of them were especially aware of how long they were in the air for. Time passed indeterminably, and few words were spoken apart from Alex's murmured reassurances to Bobby. He continued to cling to Alex, as though he was terrified that she would vanish if he let go. His eyes remained tightly shut, but tears slowly leaked out, leaving shimmering trails down his cheeks, and leaving Alex's shoulder damp.

When it seemed that Alex was starting to cramp from the awkward position she was in, Mike abandoned his seat to try and gently pry Bobby away from her just momentarily so that she would have a chance to regain some feeling in arms. Bobby's distressed sobs were too much for either of them to bear, though, and Mike finally gave up.

They watched as Bobby literally folded in against Alex once more, shaking with heightened fear. It was a heart-breaking sight.

"He barely recognises us," Carolyn said, her voice barely audible over the noise of the chopper.

"He recognises Alex," Deakins replied. "Right now, that's enough."

* * *

At some point, Deakins realised he must have dozed off, because the next thing he was aware of was the jolt of the chopper setting down on solid ground. Dazed with exhaustion, he looked around him slowly, and was treated to a sad, yet touching sight.

Alex was sitting on the floor of the chopper, her legs stretched out in front of her. Bobby lay curled up beside her, his head resting on her lap. She was stroking his hair, forehead and temple soothingly with one hand, and with the other she grasped Bobby's left hand firmly.

He wasn't asleep, Deakins noted, but he was calm.

"He got scared again," Alex explained softly when she met the captain's questioning gaze. "This was the only way to calm him down."

"It's okay, Alex," Deakins reassured her as he stood up. "You don't need to explain… or justify yourself. I have a feeling that we're going to be doing a lot of things in the coming weeks that might have seemed questionable under any other circumstances." He looked around as he stretched, and a smile quirked his lips. Carolyn was awake, stretching in her seat, but Mike was dead to the world. His head lolled off to the side in a position that was bound to leave him with one hell of a crick in the neck, and he was snoring softly.

"I'm almost loathed to wake him up," Deakins mused.

"There'll be plenty of time to catch up on lost sleep when we get where we're going," Jarod said as he emerged from the cockpit.

"How much longer now?" Alex asked tiredly. She was not quite able to conceal her disappointment at the realisation that they were not yet at their destination. Jarod favoured her with a sympathetic smile.

"We have maybe a couple of hours to travel by car, and then we'll be there. I promise."

"Where the hell are we, anyway?" Mike mumbled as Deakins' hand shaking his shoulder dragged him unwillingly back into consciousness.

"Just north of Duluth, in Minnesota," Jarod told them. "We'll head north-east from here, and cross over the border into Ontario. From there, it'll be about an hour to my parents' estate." He paused, his gaze going to Bobby, who hadn't moved from where his head rested on Alex's lap. "How is he doing?"

"As good as can be expected," Alex answered softly, returning her attention to her partner. "He's so frightened… of everything."

"It's going to take a lot to overcome that," Jarod murmured as he crouched down to look at Bobby.

For all appearances, Bobby didn't appear to be aware of anything or anyone around him, but none of them could miss the way he stiffened, and the way his breathing became sharper when Jarod started to reach towards him. Slowly, Jarod withdrew his hand, and Bobby slowly relaxed once more.

"How much chance is there that his condition right now is the result of drugs in his system, as opposed to actual psychological damage?" Deakins asked softly.

"Now?" Jarod asked quietly. "Very little chance. I took steps to guarantee that Raines would be out of the Centre a good twelve hours ahead of our offensive. So any drugs that might have been in his system should have just about worked their way through by now. He's severely traumatised… It's going to take a lot of time, effort and patience to help him to work through it. The truth is, he's not going to come out of it any time soon."

"And you want to stick him in a car for two hours?" Carolyn asked incredulously. Before Jarod had a chance to reply, though, the side door of the helicopter slid open, and a familiar face looked in at them.

"Dad," Jarod greeted his father as Major Charles stepped up into the helicopter.

"So you pulled it off," Charles said, watching Bobby with a mixture of sadness and relief. "Thank God. Are all of you okay?"

"We're not injured, if that's what you mean," Deakins answered. "But Bobby may be. We haven't been able to check him over yet."

Charles nodded.

"Okay. Well, as soon as we get to where we're going, we'll be able to do whatever we need to do for him. But right now, we need to get him on his feet and out of this bird. The car is waiting just outside."

Deakins stepped across and crouched down low, placing himself directly into Bobby's line of sight.

"Bobby. Look at me, Bobby."

Gradually, Bobby's gaze focused on the captain. Once Deakins knew he had Bobby's attention, he risked reaching out and laying a hand gently on the younger man's forearm.

"We're going to get you up now, Bobby. Mike and I are going to help you to get up, and we're going to leave the helicopter and get in a car."

At first, it appeared that Bobby hadn't comprehended Deakins' words. He continued to lie there, curled up and trembling, clutching Alex's hand in a fragile grip. Anxious to reassure him, Deakins spoke again in as gentle a tone as he could.

"You _are_ safe, Bobby. No one here is going to hurt you."

Finally, to everyone's relief, Bobby finally stirred and moved. Taking care to be as non-confrontational as possible, Mike and Deakins managed to guide him to his feet. Then, they walked him forward and aided him in stepping down, out of the chopper.

The car that awaited them turned out to be a spacious van which, tellingly, had been fitted out with a narrow mattress. They guided Bobby to it, and urged him to lie down. He resisted at first, fresh panic starting to light up his eyes, until Alex climbed into the van and joined him.

"It's okay," she murmured to him, gently encouraging him to lie down. "I'm here, Bobby. I'm right here, and I'm not going anywhere, I promise. Here, put your head down…"

She sat down at the end of the mattress, and drew Bobby's head down onto her lap once more. Even as they all watched, Bobby visibly settled and closed his eyes. Charles smiled sadly.

"He trusts you completely. That's good. That will help."

Alex looked up at Charles, tears brimming in her eyes.

"Is there any hope for him? Be honest, please."

Charles hesitated, looking over at Jarod for help. Jarod came over and crouched down in front of her.

"Be patient, Alex. Don't just write him off. You'll be doing him a huge injustice, if you do."

"I'm not writing him off," Alex whispered miserably. "I just… I'm… I'm scared."

"We all are, Alex," Mike said quietly. "We all know it's not going to be easy. But we're going to try."

She nodded, her breath hitching in her chest as she struggled to contain her sobs. The last thing she wanted was for Bobby to sense her distress, and react to it. She turned her attention downwards, and lightly stroked the greying hair of the head that rested on her lap.

"It's going to be okay," she whispered, though whether her words were meant for Bobby, or herself, even she couldn't say. "We're going to be okay."

* * *

The journey in the van was uneventful, boring, and most welcome for those very reasons. After an initial attempt at small-talk, silence fell like a blanket and, one by one, they all dozed off, until only Jarod and his father were left awake. Even Bobby seemed to have fallen into a light, if somewhat fitful sleep.

"You know this isn't going to be easy?" Charles asked his son softly. Jarod looked back over his shoulder, looking from Bobby to the others, and then back to Bobby again.

"I know that," Jarod murmured, a touch defensively, "and so do they. But, I owe it to Bobby to do everything I can to help him."

"I know," Charles reassured him. "Please, don't think I'm disputing you over this. It just has me worried. He might need a level of care that we just can't give him."

"What are you suggesting? That we put him in a hospital somewhere? Maybe with his mother? I can't do that to him, Dad."

"I wasn't suggesting anything of the sort. I want to help him as much as you do. I'm just trying to prepare you for the worst. You can't save everyone, Jarod. It may be that Bobby is one of those that you won't be able to save."

Jarod looked away, clenching his jaw.

"No," he said softly, angrily. "I won't accept that. I can't."

"Look at him, son. You can see as well as I can how badly traumatised he is. I'm not saying we won't try to help him. We will, and we'll do our best to get him through this. Just… be prepared, okay?"

Jarod said nothing more to his father, continuing to stare out the window at the passing scenery in heavy silence.

* * *

With Charles focused on the road, and Jarod focused on the scenery, neither one of them noticed Alex was awake, and watching them in deathly silence, tears rolling steadily down her cheeks. She continued to watch them for a few minutes before returning her attention to Bobby, and she didn't look up again for the rest of the trip.

* * *

They finally arrived at their destination shortly before dawn. The night sky was just starting to turn grey when the van pulled in through the gates of an enormous estate. They travelled up a long driveway, and finally pulled up in front of a house that could have been more accurately described as a mansion.

Waiting out the front were two women, one with silver hair and gentle, elegant features; the other in her thirties, with slim features and blazing red hair. Charles and Jarod climbed out and greeted the women warmly, while the detectives roused themselves inside the van.

"Bobby," Alex murmured, stroking his cheek gently, "we're here. Can you sit up?"

With some difficulty, Bobby slowly stirred, and sat up. It seemed to them that he was a little more alert than when they'd begun the final leg of the journey, but he still would not meet any of their gazes.

"How are you feeling, Bobby?" Deakins asked, doing his best to keep his tone conversational. He honestly didn't expect a response, and was unable to mask his astonishment when Bobby answered in a shaky whisper.

"My shoulder… It hurts."

Shaking off his surprise at getting a coherent response, Deakins smiled warmly at him.

"Okay. Why don't we get you out of this van and inside, and we'll see what we can do about that."

To the relief of all of them, Bobby allowed himself to be guided to his feet and out of the van, into the cool, crisp morning air.

* * *

"How's he doing there?" Charles asked as they emerged into the dusky morning light.

"He's fine," Alex snapped before she could stop herself, winning herself some strange looks from those around her.

"He said his shoulder is hurting him," Deakins answered, frowning briefly at Alex. "Can we get him inside, so it can be looked at?"

"Of course," the older of the two women said. "This way, please."

* * *

They soon found themselves in a large, spacious living area, complete with enormous armchairs and a huge open fire that was blazing away nicely. They sat Bobby in one of the comfortable-looking chairs by the fire, and the two women hurried off to get supplies. After a moment, Carolyn followed, to see if she could help.

"That was my wife, Margaret," Charles told them, "and my daughter, Emily. Emily's a doctor. She's a trauma specialist, to be exact. She'll be able to help Bobby."

"And he's definitely going to be safe here?" Mike asked, not quite able to hide his own uncertainty.

"We'll all be safe," Jarod confirmed. "The Centre doesn't know about this place. I guarantee it."

Deakins sighed audibly, and sank down onto one of the other chairs. All of a sudden, he was horribly tired.

"Well, hopefully they'll be too busy cleaning up after the explosion to even wonder where Bobby is."

Margaret, Emily and Carolyn returned, then, bearing between them a large bowl filled with steaming water, towels and a first aid kit that looked as though it belonged in an ambulance, rather than a home. Emily was also carrying a large bag with her, which she set down on the coffee table and began to pull various items out of.

"I wouldn't try giving him any injections, Em," Charles advised her quietly. "If Raines has been true to form, then he's probably been treated like a pin cushion for the last few months. He might react badly to needles, even if it's to help him."

Emily nodded calmly as she pulled out a fresh packet of sticking plaster.

"I'd already taken that into consideration when I stocked up on my supplies." She paused to look around at Bobby, but if he had any comprehension of her words, there was no sign of it in his expression or posture. His gaze remained fixed on the fire and he continued to sit placidly and silently, apparently unaware of everything and everyone around him. She smiled softly. "No needles, I promise." She paused, and then added gently, "Those clothes are going to have to come off, though."

"Captain Deakins and I can take care of that," Mike spoke up, with an eye to preserving Bobby's modesty in front of so many people. Deakins nodded in agreement, but as Mike walked over to stand by him, Bobby's demeanour suddenly changed from calm to borderline panic-stricken. He visibly tensed and cringed away from Mike, literally shrinking in against Alex, who had sat gingerly on the arm of the chair beside him, and clutched his good arm around his chest protectively.

Mike faltered, looking confused and worried at his friend's reaction. Emily, who had been watching in thoughtful silence, spoke quietly.

"Could everyone go out, please? Just for the moment. Mom, could you stay, please?"

Slowly, with some reluctance, the others began to file out. As Alex turned to go, though, Emily spoke to her quietly.

"You stay, too, Detective."

Alex didn't hesitate in turning back, relief and gratitude in her eyes.

"What's your name, dear?" Margaret asked as she dipped a face washer in the hot water.

"Alex. I… Bobby's my partner… and my best friend."

Margaret answered with a nod.

"All right, Alex. I hope you don't have any aversions to stripping your partner off, because we really do need to get him out of those clothes and into something clean."

Alex looked around, puzzled, and realised with surprise that one of the items she and Emily had brought back with them was a clean pair of pyjamas. Margaret smiled, and answered Alex's unspoken question.

"We've known that Jarod was planning this rescue almost right from the start. We also knew that he'd have nothing but whatever clothes he was wearing when he was rescued, so we bought some essentials for him, just to see him through the first few days. When he's feeling a little more at ease, we have a close friend in a village not too far from here that we can get to bring more clothes up for him to choose from. Right now, though, he should be comfortable enough in what we have for him."

"Thankyou," Alex murmured, mildly embarrassed by the realisation that, in their haste to make all their own personal preparations prior to the rescue, none of them had thought to go to Bobby's apartment and so something as simple as pack a selection of clothes for him. Margaret reached over and squeezed her hand reassuringly.

"Don't worry about it. Clothes were a secondary concern, compared to getting him out of that place. Now, we can focus on the more base matters."

"Talk to him, Alex," Emily encouraged her. "Tell him what we need to do. Reassure him that we're not going to hurt him. He'll listen to you."

Alex didn't question that. Instead, she resumed her position on the edge of the armchair, and spoke softly to him.

"Bobby, are you listening to me?"

His eyes flickered upwards just briefly before his gaze returned to the fire. Alex reached out and stroked his hair with gentle affection, and neither Margaret nor Emily missed the way he leaned in towards her at her loving touch.

"We're going to help you," she told him softly, "but you need to work with us, okay? Let us do what we need to do. It'll be okay, I promise. We're not going to hurt you."

She leaned down to press a light kiss to his forehead, and was gratified that he didn't try to pull away from her.

"It's going to be okay," she whispered, suddenly fighting a fresh flood of tears. Emily moved over so that she was kneeling on the other side of the armchair.

"Hi, Bobby," she greeted him softly. "I'm Emily. I'd like to help you, if you'll let me. I can look at your sore shoulder, and make sure you don't have any other injuries. Will you let me help you?"

Alex wondered briefly whether Emily also had some degree in psychology, or if she was just acutely perceptive. Whichever it was, she was smart enough not to identify herself as a doctor to Bobby. After his experiences over the last nine months with 'doctors' like Raines and Sydney, to do so probably would have induced a violent panic attack.

She honestly couldn't say that she noticed him give any sort of assent, but he made no protest when Emily gently urged him to sit forward so she could ease the top off him.

"That's it," Margaret murmured as, between Emily and herself, they managed to peel the top off Bobby.

A muffled sob escaped him, and Alex could barely stifle a sob of her own as she realised that he had several seeping wounds on his torso that had caused the material of the top to stick to him almost like glue. Margaret and Emily were taking as much care as they could, but there was nothing they could do to avoid causing him some degree of pain.

But then the top was finally off, and they were finally able to see the true extent of the damage.

"Oh, god…" Alex whispered as she got an eyeful of the massive bruising that covered his upper body, along with a multitude of cuts, burns and other injuries. Across his stomach, and on the inside of his left arm, were the telltale needle marks, some scarred over and some more recent, from Raines' many experiments.

His right shoulder was bruised and badly swollen, and Alex didn't doubt that it was hurting him.

"Look at this," Margaret whispered in dismay, and Alex and Emily both looked to where she was indicating. On Bobby's left side, down near his abdomen, were three long, thick, sutured incisions, all of which looked relatively recent, and were far from healed. The top incision was almost bright red with infection.

"It's okay," Emily murmured, barely hiding her disgust and anger at the shocking abuse that had been perpetrated on Bobby. "I can do something about that. Now, Mom and Alex, how about you both try cleaning him up a little, while I see what I can do about this shoulder of his. And then we'll get those ragged old pants off him, and into something a little more comfortable. Okay?"

Alex took a damp cloth that Margaret offered her, and gently began to wipe clean his dirt-smeared features. He probably hadn't had a bath or a shower for days, she thought miserably, maybe even longer.

As she continued to rub the dirt and grime gently off his face, Alex tried to make eye contact with him, but he resolutely avoided her gaze, staring past her to the open fire. She didn't know whether he couldn't look at her, or wouldn't, but his detachment frightened her. She could feel the tremors that passed through his body as their hands worked to clean away the dirt from his body, and treat his injuries. He was just one step shy of an outright panic attack, and it would only take one wrong move on their part to trigger it.

Of the three of them, Margaret seemed to be the most conscious of that. She continued to murmur reassurances to Bobby as she rubbed a warm, damp cloth over his chest, arms, stomach and back, talking to him as though he was just a child in need of comfort after skinning a knee. It was a tactic that appeared to be working, though. Then, when Bobby sobbed in pain as Emily applied ointment and then strapped his shoulder, Margaret took his left hand in both her hands and grasped it firmly, and was rewarded with a slight return squeeze from Bobby.

"Okay," she said softly once they'd bathed him and treated his injuries. "Bobby, do you think you can you stand? We'll get those old pants off you, and help you into a nice, clean pair of pyjamas."

To start with, Alex didn't think Bobby was going to move. She was on the verge of suggesting that perhaps they'd need to bring Mike and Deakins back in after all when Bobby shifted forward in the seat and got awkwardly to his feet.

"That's good, sweetheart," Margaret encouraged him and, without hesitation, stripped the ragged pants down to his ankles, leaving him naked before them.

At first, Alex was embarrassed to look, and tried to cover her embarrassment by focusing on the floor. Watching the floor, however, was not conducive to getting the job done, and she found herself being forced to look at his naked form in order to help get the pyjama pants onto him.

"Looks like minimal damage done to his legs," Emily commented, relief evident in her voice. "I'll need to check him over more thoroughly later on, but it doesn't look like there's been any interference, either."

Alex sucked in a sharp breath.

"You mean sexual? You think they would have done that to him?"

"This is the Centre we're talking about," Emily said flatly. "Don't underestimate what they would be willing to do to get what they want. If they thought they could force Bobby into cooperating by threatening him with sexual assault… or even rape… then they _would_ do it. But like I said, it doesn't appear that that's happened. I just can't rule it out until I've been able to look him over more thoroughly, and that may not happen until he begins to come out of this trauma. When that might be? I can't begin to guess."

"Sit down now, sweetheart," Margaret murmured once they had the pyjama pants on him. Bobby sat, and they gently pulled the pyjama top on to cover his upper body. Despite the care they took, he still cringed and sobbed from the pain his injured shoulder was causing him.

"He's probably hurting just about all over," Emily said. "I wonder if we could get him to swallow a couple of tablets…?"

"Bobby?" Alex asked, resuming stroking his forehead and cheek in a soothing manner. "Will you swallow a couple of tablets? It'll help your shoulder."

"Here," Emily murmured and, rather than attempting to slip the tablets into his mouth herself, she gently opened up his left hand and placed the tablets in his palm. After a moment, Bobby lifted his hand to his mouth and swallowed both tablets dry.

"Good boy," Margaret praised him warmly. "That will help you get some sleep now, and hopefully you'll feel a little better in the morning. Now, how about we see about getting you to your room?"

At that, Bobby stiffened, and sank back into the chair, a faint whimper of fear escaping his lips. Far from being put-out, though, Margaret nodded amicably.

"It's okay, honey. You can stay right here, if that's where you're comfortable. Okay? We'll get you some blankets, and a pillow, and you won't have to move from this chair."

It was the right thing to say. Bobby relaxed visibly, and settled down once more. Seeing the confused look on Alex's face, Margaret explained softly.

"For nine months, his room has been little more than a prison to him; the place where they locked him in at night, to keep him from escaping. It might be a little while before we can ease the fear that he'll be locked in and trapped again."

Alex felt more tears threaten.

"His bedroom used to be his sanctuary."

"It may be again, one day," Margaret assured him. "But only time will tell. Right now, it's just as easy to let him stay where he is, if this is where he feels safe. That's our priority, now. Making sure he continues to feel a hundred percent safe." She stood up slowly. "I'll let the others know they can come back in, then I'll go and get blankets and a pillow for him."

"Could you please bring them for me, as well?" Alex asked quietly. "If he's staying in here, then so am I."

Margaret paused just for a moment before nodding in acquiescence and silently leaving the room.

* * *

_tbc..._


	19. Nightmares and Bad Memories

When Alex awoke next, it was morning and daylight was striving hard to get through the filter of the curtains. She paused, stretching hard in the chair, and groaning softly. Despite the comfort of the chair, it still was not the same as being able to stretch out in a proper bed.

She wondered, abruptly, how Bobby had fared, and looked around to where he should have been. Alex's heart leapt into her throat. The chair was empty – Bobby was gone.

She was on her feet in an instant, looking around the room frantically, and was just on the verge of going to find the others when her ears picked up the sound of deep breathing. Frowning, Alex followed the sound to the far side of the room, to the one corner that had not yet been touched by sunlight, and there he was.

Alex paused, her heart breaking all over again as she observed her sleeping partner. Twelve months ago, if someone had told her that, one day in the near future, Bobby would be left so badly traumatised that he would abandon the comfort of a bed, or even an armchair, and curl up on the floor like a terrified child, she would have laughed. No, strike that. She wouldn't have just laughed, she probably would have taken it as a personal insult on her partner's behalf, and just shot the offending party. But here she was, looking down at the huddled, trembling form of her partner and best friend as he slept restlessly.

She noted sadly that he'd at least taken one of the blankets and the pillow with him when he abandoned the comfort of the recliner chair. The blanket, however, had slipped off his body and, with the fire having almost gone out, now he lay shivering in the cool air.

Crouching down beside him, Alex gently draped the blanket over him once more, wincing a little at how icy his skin felt to the touch. After a moment's consideration, she sat down on the floor beside him and gently began rubbing his upper body through the blanket to try and get him warm again. She half-expected him to waken at the contact, but it didn't happen.

It surprised her. She knew for a fact that he had never been a particularly sound sleeper, and she would have thought that his nine months of captivity would only have served to make that worse. The evidence was before her, though, and she marvelled at the way he gradually relaxed and ceased his trembling at her gentle touch.

_He trusts you_.

That was what Major Charles had said, as had Emily. Tears pricked at her eyes. He _did_ trust her, and she was terrified that she would make a mistake with him now, and betray that trust. God knew he'd suffered enough betrayal over the last nine months that any show of trust from him was a not-so-small miracle.

A soft sigh escaped her and, on impulse, leaned down to press a tender kiss to his temple. She wasn't going to begrudge him sleep, even if it was curled up on the floor in the darkest corner of a strange room. If that was what made him feel safe, then so be it.

Almost without thinking, she settled down beside him and soon fell asleep once more, her fingertips still lightly stroking his hair.

* * *

_Bobby sat huddled on the floor of the tiny room, struggling to control his breathing. He didn't know what was going on, and he was pretty damn sure that he didn't want to know. All he _**did**_ know was that he'd been asleep in his room when a team of cleaners burst in, dragged him unceremoniously out of bed and took him down into the very lower levels of the Centre at gunpoint. _

_He thought he was in for another of Raines' experiments, or simulations, but he was pushed into this little room, locked in and left alone. Now, he sat in fearful silence, wondering just what he was in for._

_Whether it was minutes or hours that passed, he didn't know. He really have any way of gauging time in this place, and he only had a vague idea of how long he'd been there for. It felt like an eternity._

_The door opened, and he looked up to have his fears confirmed. Raines stood there, staring down at him with what Bobby could only describe as evil delight. _

"_Do you know why you're here, Bobby?" the evil doctor asked in that rasping voice that Bobby had so come to hate. He stared up at Raines, putting as much hostility into his glare as he could manage._

"_Because you're an evil, sadistic bastard?"_

"_Because the Triumvirate have finally given you to me to control," Raines said, and an icy chill of panic and fear swept through Bobby. Raines smiled at him, delighting in Bobby's reaction._

"_The gloves are off now, Bobby. You **will** learn to cooperate with me, whether you want to or not. And, if you know what's good for you, you will cooperate with me, one hundred percent."_

"_I'd rather be dead," Bobby whispered, but try as he might, he could not hide the fear in his voice. Raines' grin widened._

"_If you don't cooperate, you'll wish you were. I guarantee it." He took a step back, out of the door. "We begin tomorrow. Think about it carefully, Bobby. How much you suffer from now on is going to be entirely up to you."_

_Then the door slammed shut, and he was alone again._

_Bobby sat stiffly on the floor, the blood running cold in his veins. Raines said the Triumvirate… whatever the hell that was… had decided to hand him over to Raines. Sydney had promised him that as long as he cooperated and did as he was told, then Sydney would retain control, and Raines' contact with him would be minimised. The son of a bitch had lied to him_…

_That shouldn't really have been that big a shock, he reflected miserably. So far, the only people in this whole miserable place who hadn't lied to him were Angelo and Miss Parker. _

_Tears filled his eyes and spilled down his cheeks before he could even attempt to hold them back. If he really was in Raines' hands now, then God help him, because no one else was going to. _

"_Jarod, where are you?" he whispered before distraught sobs overtook him, and he cried helplessly into his cold, bare arms_…

* * *

Deakins ventured into the family room, taking care to be quiet in case Bobby and Alex were still asleep. He paused just inside the doorway, concern causing his chest to tighten. Bobby was not in the chair where they'd left him earlier that morning, and Alex was nowhere to be seen, either.

For a long moment, he didn't move, not sure what to do. It was then, in the absolute quiet, that he heard it; soft sobs, coming from his immediate left. Looking around, he was startled to see Bobby curled up on the floor in a darkened corner of the room, a blanket covering his shivering form and a pillow under his head. The sobs were coming from him, and as Deakins moved closer, he could make out tears on the younger man's face. He was still asleep, though, by all appearances.

Deakins bit down lightly on his lower lip and drew in a long, fortifying breath. This was a sight that, not so long ago, he would never have imagined seeing – Bobby Goren crying in his sleep.

He glanced around, but Alex was nowhere in sight. He couldn't imagine that she would have just abandoned Bobby. Instead, he decided to assume that she had perhaps just needed to use the bathroom. With that set in his mind, Deakins walked slowly over to Bobby's huddled form and crouched down beside him, careful to stay just barely within arm's length.

"Bobby."

He wasn't really sure what to expect. He didn't know whether Bobby would respond, or not. Deakins was more than a little relieved when Bobby started a little, eyes snapping open, and a pair of red-rimmed brown eyes focused quickly on him.

"Hey," Deakins murmured, keeping his tone gentle. "Are you okay?"

Bobby didn't answer with words, and Deakins couldn't say he really expected a verbal response. When the tears began to flow again, though, and Bobby broke down into fresh sobs, Deakins couldn't hold back. Shifting forward, he sat down awkwardly on carpet beside Bobby and gently put his arms around him.

"It was a bad dream," he murmured, gently but insistently drawing Bobby's head down against his shoulder. "It's over now. The nightmare's over, Bobby."

If anything, though, Bobby's sobs seemed to worsen, and Deakins felt his shirt growing damp from the tears being shed. He wondered dimly just what the nightmare had been about, and then thought ruefully that he was probably better off not knowing.

He continued to hug Bobby to him, but didn't try murmuring any further reassurances. He wasn't going to tell him that everything was okay because, in Bobby's fragile mind, nothing was probably okay.

A few minutes had passed before movement distracted him, and he looked up to see Alex had reappeared, and was watching them with guilt in her eyes.

"I had to go to the bathroom," she said softly as she sank down to her knees. "But this place is so damn big, and I got lost…" She trailed off, and then added unhappily, "He seemed settled when I went out."

"Don't apologise, Alex," Deakins told her quietly. "I know you want to be with him constantly, but that's just not practical. That's why we're all here. Anyway, he's okay. It was just a bad dream."

Alex reached across and gently pressed her palm to Bobby's cheek. His sobs had finally begun to quieten, and he noticeably turned towards her touch. Deakins watched, fascinated by the way Bobby responded to her. He was about to pass Bobby back into Alex's arms when he spotted something that sent chills down his spine. On the left side of Bobby's head, just near his temple, was a distinct puncture wound.

Deakins' stomach rolled unpleasantly at the sight of it, threatening to empty itself of the breakfast he'd had only a short while ago.

"What is it?" Alex asked, leaning in to get a look at what had suddenly attracted his attention. A frown creased her features at the sight of the puncture, and she reached up tentatively to brush her fingers over the raw-looking mark. "We never noticed that last night. What could have caused it?"

Deakins didn't answer, drawing a suspicious stare from Alex.

"You know how this happened, don't you?" she asked, struggling to keep her voice low and even. The last thing she wanted was to upset Bobby, when he finally seemed to be settling down.

"The sim discs that Jarod brought with him when he came back," Deakins admitted.

"You mean the ones you wouldn't let me see," Alex added, and he nodded.

"Yes. There was one disc. It was an experiment that Raines conducted. A… A torture experiment. It was horrible, Alex. You don't want to see it, or know the details."

She opened her mouth to protest, but he cut her off, his voice taking on a familiar tone of authority that she could not ignore.

"Trust me, Alex. You do _not_ want to know."

Reluctantly accepting his words, she turned her attention back to the wound, and tears filled her eyes. Explanation or not, it didn't take much of an effort to imagine what might have been done to him to create such a mark.

"Those sons of bitches," she whispered. "He could have brain damage!"

"No, I don't think so," Deakins murmured. He's aware of what's going on around him, and he is reasonably lucid. He responds when we talk to him. Maybe not verbally, but he does respond. If he did have brain damage, I don't think he'd be capable of responding to us."

"I just wish he'd talk to us," Alex admitted miserably. "He's only said a few words since we rescued him!"

Deakins looked down at Bobby's huddled form. Though he didn't appear to be paying any attention to the conversation going on over his head, Deakins suspected Bobby heard every word that was being said.

"Give him time, Alex. You know better than anyone how hard it always was for Bobby to vocalise what was going on inside that head of his. Imagine how hard it must be for him now. Give him time to find a way to talk to us."

He shifted, then, and got back up to his feet.

"Bobby, are you hungry?"

Even Alex couldn't deny that Bobby responded positively to that question. His head came up, and at the same time his stomach growled loudly. Alex laughed softly, and self-consciously wiped at her eyes.

"I think that's a big yes."

"C'mon, then," Deakins encouraged him. "Come and get some breakfast. Margaret is making pancakes and French toast."

"French toast?" Alex echoed in surprise. Deakins nodded.

"Yes, French toast."

Alex easily understood what had been left unsaid. At least for the moment, an extra effort would be made with meals, so that Bobby wouldn't be served up anything even remotely reminiscent of the food he was dished up whilst in the Centre. Jarod had already apprised his mother of what sort of foods to avoid – oats and porridge, stew, steamed vegetables, rice… It was apparently a challenge that Margaret had taken up with enthusiasm.

They led Bobby from the family room, through the vestibule and along a brightly-lit hallway, and finally into an enormous kitchen, complete with an equally enormous dining table. Everyone was there, sitting around the table and talking quietly, enjoying the food that Margaret had so cheerfully prepared.

"I was starting to think you'd all gotten lost," Margaret said, smiling warmly at Bobby and Alex.

"Not quite," Deakins reassured her. Margaret nodded, and then her gaze went to Bobby as Alex ushered him into a seat beside Mike.

"How are you feeling this morning, sweetheart? Think you might be able to stomach a little bit of solid food?"

He didn't answer verbally, but none of them missed his slight nod.

"Okay," Margaret enthused. "Now, we might leave off the French toast for the time being. That might be a little more than your tummy can handle. We'll see how you go with pancaked, okay? Just one to start with, and go nice and slow. There's no telling how your body's going to react to food."

Though no one ceased to eat their own breakfast, they all still watched out of the corner of their eyes as Bobby began to devour the pancake, one small piece at a time, until the plate was empty, and polished off the glass of juice that had been poured for him.

"Good boy," Margaret praised him gently. "Now, do you think that was enough for now? Or do you feel you could eat a little more?"

None of them missed the longing in Bobby's eyes as he looked at the small stack of pancakes that still sat in the middle of the dining table, but he answered Margaret with a slight shake of his head.

"Well, that's probably wise," Margaret agreed. "No point rushing forward. You'd be better off having a little bit to eat at regular intervals, than trying to dive straight back in to three full meals a day. One step at a time, right?"

"Absolutely," Emily confirmed brightly. She walked around and took his hand in her own, gently urging him up. "Come with me, Bobby. I'd like to show you something."

Alex started a little, but Emily smiled reassuringly at her.

"It's okay, Alex. You finish breakfast. I'll look after him."

For a brief moment, it seemed that Alex was going to refuse and get up anyway, but then Bobby lifted his gaze to meet hers. It was just a split second connection, but it seemed enough to reassure Alex that he was okay. That look told her that he trusted Emily, and that he'd be okay.

Then, Mike stood up and placed his empty plate in the sink.

"I'm done. Mind if I join you?"

Emily nodded in acquiescence, understanding the need of the New York crew to have at least one of them with Bobby constantly. It seemed to be a need that was shared by Bobby, too. Emily couldn't miss the way he relaxed just slightly when Mike stepped up beside him.

"Of course not," she said, smiling sincerely at Mike. "This way."

* * *

She led them out of the kitchen, and back down that long hallway, to a room at the far end. It was a large bedroom, furnished with a king-sized bed, large chest of drawers and a couple of calming scenic paintings on the walls. There was a glass partition on the other side of the room, which slid open and led out onto a covered patio which, in turn, overlooked the property.

There was sunlight streaming in through the glass, making the room warm, bright and very open.

"There's an ensuite through there," Emily told Bobby. "It has a nice, big bathtub, or a shower, so you can use whichever you prefer. What do you think, Bobby?"

Bobby slowly extricated himself from Emily's hand, and stepped slowly into the room. This was so different to the rooms he'd been kept in at the Centre. There was no feeling here of being trapped. It was completely open. It felt warm... safe...

* * *

_The Centre_

"_So, what do you think, Bobby?"_

_Bobby said nothing in answer to Sydney's question. He dared not say a word, for fear of what might come out of his mouth. The room he'd been escorted to – the room where Sydney had thought he would be 'quite comfortable' – was barely as big as an isolation cell at Rikers, and not much more inviting. There was a bed, a desk and chair, and nothing more. The bed was barely big enough for his large frame to fit on, and looked hard an unpleasant. The floor was cold concrete, without even a simple mat to cover it, and the walls and ceiling were stark white. There was not so much as a window to make the room in any way appealing._

_It was a prison cell, Bobby thought dismally. Nothing more, nothing less._

_Looking around slowly, he found Sydney watching him with intense curiosity, and his patience began to severely fray._

"_What do you want, Sydney? Are you waiting for me to thank you for this? If you are, you'll be waiting a long time."_

"_Is there something wrong with this?" Sydney asked, and Bobby gave a short, bitter laugh._

"_The bathroom in my apartment is bigger than this room. This is no better from that dingy cell they used to lock me into during the five years I was here as a boy."_

_Sydney's expression hardened just fractionally._

"_It could be much worse than this, Bobby. You could just as easily find yourself locked into an even smaller room, with not even the comfort of a bed. This room is going to be a sanctuary for you in the coming years. I suggest you attempt to make the best of it that you can."_

_And then the door swung shut with a resounding bang, and he heard the sound of a lock dropping into place. He didn't even bother to try the door – he knew he'd been locked in. Walking over, Bobby sat down on the bed and dropped his face into his hands, wishing more desperately than ever for a way out of this nightmare_...

* * *

Both Mike and Emily were startled when Bobby suddenly stumbled into the ensuite, and both were just starting to move when they heard the sound of him being violently ill. Mike shot forward, ducking into the bathroom and dropping to the floor beside where Bobby was slumped over the toilet, vomiting up the pancake that he'd devoured not long before.

"Bobby?" Mike said anxiously. "Easy, buddy. It's okay..."

He rubbed Bobby's back, half-expecting his friend to pull away. To his surprise and relief, though, he didn't.

"I'm sorry," Bobby whispered in between ill-suppressed sobs and what was now just dry-retching. "I'm sorry..."

"Don't be," Mike told him fiercely. "You don't have to be sorry, Bobby. Not for anything."

"Mike, here," Emily said, handing him a dampened cloth. Mike took it gratefully, and reached around to wipe Bobby's face and mouth.

"Don't apologise for something that isn't your fault," Mike went on firmly. Bobby looked sideways at Mike, his expression stricken, and he seemed to be struggling to say something. Mike waited in patient silence, encouraged that Bobby was at least trying to communicate.

"My room..." he whispered finally, frustration creasing his brow. Mike guessed quickly that Bobby was referring to the room in which he'd been held prisoner for so long."

"You mean at the Centre?" he asked, and Bobby nodded.

"It was so small...Locked in... like... like a cell..."

"It was more of a prison cell than a room," Mike translated, and again Bobby nodded.

"I... they thought I should... should be... grateful. S... Sydney called it my s... sanctuary."

"Some sanctuary," Mike muttered angrily. "Where they lock you in every night."

Shuddering violently, Bobby continued on in a stilted voice.

"I... I lay in there every night... so scared... not knowing what they... they'd want me to do next. I p... prayed someone would come and r... rescue me... but no one came."

Tears stung Mike's eyes.

"I'm sorry, Bobby. I am so sorry."

He made no attempt to tell about the agonising months spent waiting for Jarod to come back. Compared to Bobby's suffering, it would have sounded trivial at best.

Reaching out, Mike slipped one hand around the back of Bobby's neck, and gently drew him in close.

"I am sorry it took us so long to come and get you, Bobby. There's no excuse for that, and I wouldn't dream of trying to make one up. But you're out of that place now, and I swear to God they'll never get their filthy hands on you again." He paused, and then whispered into Bobby's ear, "I promise I'll do whatever it takes to keep you safe. I'll kill them before I let them take you again."

Bobby shifted and pressed his face into Mike's shoulder, and Mike wrapped his arms around Bobby's painfully thin form and hugged him fiercely.

"We've got you now, Bobby," he murmured, echoing Deakins' words of the night before. "We've got you now."

* * *

Alex sighed softly as she finally settled down in bed, in the room that was to be hers for as long as they needed to be there. To her great relief, she'd discovered that her room was immediately next to Bobby's, so that she was in close proximity to him through the long hours of the night.

It was late, pushing on towards one in the morning and Bobby had turned in hours ago, his abused body finally running out of stamina shortly after dinner.

After breakfast that morning, Margaret had opted to take a different approach to deal with Bobby's apparent inability to keep food down. She'd done as she'd said at breakfast, and had encouraged Bobby to eat very minor helpings several times throughout the day. Sometimes it was dry biscuits and a little cheese; sometimes it was fresh fruit. At dinner time, she brought him a bowl of soup and some thick-sliced toast, all of which he hungrily devoured.

The tactic seemed to work. Bobby managed to keep down everything he was given. After Bobby had finally gone to bed, though, Mike had suggested that perhaps the nausea Bobby had suffered wasn't so much a physical issue, but rather a reaction to bad memories. He'd then gone on to explain about the memories Bobby had been hit with when they'd shown him his room.

Alex bit lightly on her lower lip. She'd finally gotten too anxious to stay in the kitchen, and had gone looking for them. She had finally gotten too anxious to stay in the kitchen, and had gone looking for them. She'd wanted to cry at the sight of Bobby sitting slumped on the floor of the bathroom, sobbing softly into Mike's shoulder, while Mike hugged him protectively. It warmed her too, though, to know that Bobby was willing to accept comfort from others, and not her alone. It told her that the man she'd known was still there, trapped somewhere inside his damaged psyche, and that he was still fighting. It was a relief to her that it would not be her responsibility alone to help him to recover.

She'd looked in on him one last time before turning in herself, and had ended up standing there, watching him sleep for nearly twenty minutes. Once more, she'd found herself in tears, relieved and grateful that they finally had Bobby back, where he belonged – with the people who cared about him.

Finally convinced that he was settled for the night, she'd turned to go to her own room, and had been startled to find Jarod standing right behind her.

"He's asleep?" he'd asked softly, and she'd nodded, eyeing him warily.

"Yes, hopefully for the whole night."

Though Jarod didn't say anything to that, the expression on his face spoke loudly for him. Alex shifted, frowning.

"You don't think he will."

"I don't know," he answered honestly. "I hope he will. I really do. But I also know from personal experience that it might be a long time before he'll be able to sleep through the night without having nightmares."

Alex stepped away from Bobby's door, consciously reminding herself not to close it.

"He was never a heavy sleeper to start with. I think that he only ever slept for maybe four or five hours a night, on average. And if we had a big case, he sometimes went for days without sleep. I always thought it was just how his mind was. That he never stopped thinking long enough for his brain to relax... but I guess I was wrong, wasn't I? He was afraid of the nightmares, wasn't he?"

"On a subconscious level, yes," Jarod agreed. "There was part of him that never forgot those years he was in the Centre, as much as he tried to."

"I need to ask you something," Alex said, "and I need an honest answer."

Jarod looked slightly disconcerted, but didn't baulk.

"What is it?"

"Why did you take so long? They had him for nine months! You said it would take four or five at the most! But nine months...?"

Jarod hesitated, and then motioned into her room.

"May I come in?"

She conceded, and he followed her inside. Sitting beside her on the bed, Jarod spoke quietly and apologetically.

"Firstly, I'm sorry it took so long. I really am, and it's my fault that it happened that way. I accept that, and I'll have to face Bobby over it. When I left New York, after he was taken, I wanted to just go and get him out myself. I thought I could do it. I'd gotten people out of the Centre before. I rescued my own brother right out from under Raines' nose... but this time I underestimated how desperate they were not to lose another pretender. I tried to get into the Centre four times in the first two months to rescue Bobby, but each time they were ready for me. Each time, Bobby had already been moved to a different part of the Centre, beyond where I could reach him, and on my fourth try, I was shot by Lyle. I barely got out myself that time, and then I was here for nearly a month, recovering."

"Three months wasted," Alex said bitterly, and Jarod nodded, having the good grace to look ashamed.

"I know, and I really am sorry for it."

She looked around at him, her expression hard.

"He escaped, you know."

"I know," Jarod confirmed. "The story reached me a week or so after Bobby was recaptured. It won't make you feel any better, but I have information on that sherriff, which I'll pass on to the proper authorities when the time is right. He won't be a cop much longer."

Alex considered that for a moment.

"You're right," she agreed finally. "It doesn't make me feel any better."

Jarod sighed faintly.

"When I recovered from being shot, I started trying to track down Dan Ellis. It didn't take me long to do, but he was deployed in the Middle East, and wouldn't be back for another four months."

Alex blinked back the tears.

"Couldn't you have found someone else? You must know plenty of others."

"Yes, but not with Dan's experience or resources. Listen to me. I didn't dare to trust just anyone, Alex. I wanted this to be a successful rescue, and that meant choosing the right people to work with. I only trusted Dan to be able to deal with an operation as big as this. I only trusted Dan to understand how important it was."

"It hurts," Alex said softly. "It hurts, knowing we left him to suffer in that place for nine months. What am I supposed to tell him when he asks why we took so long to come for him?"

"He may never ask that."

She laughed bitterly.

"He'll ask. One way or another, he'll ask. And he's got every right to ask." She shook her head in distress. "We let him down at every turn."

"You think he'll blame you?" Jarod asked. Alex stared at the floor, suddenly blinded by her tears.

"I don't know. Maybe... Maybe I want him to."

Jarod reached over and laid a hand gently over hers. "Here's what I think. I think you're the reason Bobby didn't completely give up. Look at what happened in the field. He was hysterical with fear, but he responded to you. He clung to you all the way here. He wouldn't have done that if he blamed you."

She tried to stop them, but the tears came in a flood, and a moment later she felt Jarod's arms slip around her shoulders and draw her in close. At first she resisted, but her distress was too great, and all of a sudden it felt very good to just let go of all the emotions that had been pent up inside her for so long.

"Let it go," Jarod murmured as he hugged her. "Let it out."

She didn't know how long she'd cried in his arms for, but she had to admit that she felt a little better afterwards. If nothing else, she felt calm enough now to be able to sleep. Now, she settled down into bed, and the last thoughts that past through her mind before she fell asleep were prayers that the night would pass by without disturbance.

* * *

Alex awoke next to sunlight filtering in through the curtained window. She lay there for nearly five minutes, not thinking, and just wallowing in the warmth and comfort the bed provided. For just a few minutes, she could almost believe she was just on holiday, with no need to get up for work, and nowhere important to be...

And then it hit her that the night had passed by, and there had been no disturbances. No being woken in the middle of the night by terrified screams. It was peaceful, and quiet.

Slipping out of bed, she went out and down to Bobby's room, only to freeze in the doorway in momentary shock. Bobby was not in his bed, but sitting hunched up in a far corner of the room instead. Breaking her paralysis, she ventured into the room and her gaze swept across the bed, taking in the soaking wet sheets. She winced at the acrid smell of urine that met her nostrils.

She padded across the floor to where he sat, and crouched down in front of him, wary that he might be in a seriously distressed state of mind, and not be aware of her presence.

"Bobby?"

He didn't respond immediately, but as she started to reach out to him, his broken gaze lifted to meet hers.

"I... I'm sorry," he whispered, and just about killed her to see the shame and misery in his brown eyes.

"You don't have to be sorry for anything, Bobby. _I'm_ sorry. I never heard to you call out."

He shuddered.

"I didn't. B... Bad nightmares... Woke up... I th... thought I screamed, but I... I guess I didn't. I... I...:

His gaze flickered to the bed, and then down to his pyjama bottoms, which were also soaked through. She reached out and cupped his cheek gently with her palm, bringing his gaze back up to meet hers.

"You don't have to be ashamed, Bobby. It's okay. It really is."

Standing up, she walked through into the bathroom and began to run a bath for him. Thankfully, the tub was long and deep, and would allow Bobby to stretch out and hopefully relax. She returned to the bedroom and took Bobby's hand, urging him up. He got to his feet and allowed himself to be led into the bathroom.

"Let's get these off you," Alex murmured, pushing the pyjama shirt off his shoulders. Again, she had to struggle not to cringe at the sight of his many injuries.

She hesitated only briefly before gently urging him to discard the pants as well.

"In you get," she encouraged him, and had to smile at the sigh that escaped his lips as he sank down into the hot water.

"Better?" she asked, and he answered with a small nod.

"Th... Thankyou."

She sat carefully on the edge of the tub, took up a washcloth and began to wash his shoulders and back. He sat stiffly at first, unsure and visibly ill at ease.

"Just relax, Bobby," Alex murmured. "I'm not going to hurt you. You know that don't you?"

He didn't verbally respond, but slowly began to relax under her ministrations.

"That's it," Alex said approvingly. "Just relax. It's okay."

The next few minutes passed in silence before Alex spoke again.

"Can you tell me what your nightmare was about?"

He didn't answer straight away, but she didn't miss the tears that filled his eyes and rolled slowly down his cheeks.

"I... I'm sorry."

He spoke so softly that she almost didn't hear him at all. As it was, she had to pause before she responded to him.

"What for?"

He couldn't... or wouldn't look up at her.

"For this... That you have to do this... for me."

On impulse, she leaned down and pressed a gently, feather-light kiss on his cheek.

"Do you think I mind? I don't, Bobby. I'm just so grateful to have you back, I'll do anything to make things easier on you." She folded the washcloth over the edge of the tub and got up, picking up the wet pyjamas as she did so.

"I'm just going to take these and your bed sheets to the laundry. You just stay in the tub, and try to relax. I'll be back shortly."

She left before he had a chance to say anything else. Walking through the bedroom, she dropped the pants on the floor and kept going out into the hallway, where she collapsed to the floor and let the tears come in a flood.As much as she wanted to convince herself that everything was okay, and that she didn't mind doing those personal things for Bobby, the truth was that she _did_ mind. She minded very much, for a number of different reasons; not the least of which was the very real fear of what it would mean for the future of their partnership.

More than anything, she wanted her partner back, and it was in clinging to that hope that she'd survived the last nine months. Sure, Deakins had said that they were likely to find themselves doing things that would normally have been beyond the boundaries of professional propriety, and sure it was for Bobby's sake that they were doing them. All the same, she feared how her having to strip Bobby down and bathe him like an infanct was going to damage their chances of ever being able to work together again as parners on the job.

It was a selfish fear, and she hated herself for it, but she couldn't help it and she couldn't stop her thoughts from travelling down those paths. They had once been one of the best and most successful partnerships in the NYPD, and she was terrified by the thought that perhaps those days were over.

She buried her face in her hands, doing her best to muffle the sounds of her sobs so that Bobby wouldn't hear, but she couldn't stem the tide of her tears. All the stress, all the grief, all the heartache of the last nine months finally seemed to have found an outlet, and once started it couldn't be stopped.

She had no idea how long she had been sitting there for, but at some point she felt a pair of arms slide around her shoulders, and draw her in for a protective embrace. At first she struggled, but those hands would not let go, and finally she found herself crying helplessly into someone's shoulder.

Minutes passed, and she finally quieted enough that when she tried to pull back, there was no resistance.

"Mike?" she whispered, looking up at her fellow detective in a daze. He offered her a small smile.

"Hey. You okay?"

"I don't know," she answered honestly. "I... I guess everything just suddenly hit home." She glanced back into Bobby's bedroom. "We've got such a long way to go with him."

"Did you think it was going to be easy?" Mike wondered, not quite able to keep his tone free of incredulity. Out of all of them, he thought Alex would have been the last one to make an assumption like that.

"I don't know what I thought," Alex admitted miserably. "I mean, I knew it wasn't going to be just a case of going in, getting him out, take maybe a couple of weeks off and everything would be fine. I _knew_ that. But I guess I just wasn't prepared for the mental state he'd be in. Not fully, anyway."

Mike nodded thoughtfully.

"I get that. We were all taken a little by surprise by it. But the important thing is knowing that he is still in there. Those bastards at the Centre didn't succeed in crushing him, not totally. He can still be helped, Alex."

"I know," she agreed. "And the good news is that he's a little more communicative this morning... Talking a little bit more easily. But there's still so much trauma. He... He wet the bed, Mike."

To his credit, Mike appeared neither disgusted nor embarrassed by the revelation. Instead, he nodded thoughtfully.

"It's not surprising. It's a natural physical response when you're terrified." He paused, eyeing her quizizcally. "How did you react?"

"I ran a bath for him, and put him in it. That's where he is now." She gave a slightly strangled laugh. "I've had to strip Bobby naked, and bathe him like I would my nephew, Mike. Tell me that's not going to damage our professional partnership."

He hugged her close again.

"Give it time, Alex. He's only been out of that place for a little over twenty-four hours. We can't start making judgements now, not so early on."

He got up, and pulled Alex up after him.

"Do what you told him you were going to do..."

"I said I was going to take the wet things to the laundry, and then I'd be right back."

"Then go and do that. I'm gonna go in and talk to him, and then when you come back, we'll help him to get dressed together, okay?"

She nodded, grateful for both his understanding, and his willingness to help.

"Thanks, Mike. For everything."

"Hey," Mike said with a shrug. "He's my friend, too, and if I can't help him out, then what the hell am I doing here?"

He followed her back into the bedroom, and whistled softly at the state of the bed.

"That must have been one hell of a bad nightmare."

"I asked him what it was about," Alex said as they stripped the wet sheets from the mattress. "But he either couldn't or wouldn't tell me. He just changed the subject. I don't know... Maybe he'll talk to you."

"I'll try," Mike offered. "I'll definitely try."

* * *

Bobby was sitting up in the tub when Mike walked in. His head was bowed, but Mike could still see the tears on his cheeks.

"Hey, buddy," he murmured as he sat carefully on the edge of the tub. "Heard you had a bad night."

Bobby didn't move, or even acknowledge Mike's presence. Mike hesitated, considering what to say before trying again.

"If you want to talk about it, Bobby... about anything... I'm right here, pal. But if you really don't want to talk, then that's okay, too."

Finally, Bobby raised his head just a little.

"Do you think..."

"Do I think what?" Mike prompted him when he faltered.

"Would it be better if I... if I was dead?"

Mike's stomach lurched unpleasantly. Of all the things he had tried to anticipate that Bobby might say, that was the last thing he wanted to hear.

"No, Bobby," he answered, trying to keep his voice firm but not aggressive. "No, I don't think it would be better, not for anyone. Not at all. Why would you ask that?"

Bobby drew in a shuddering breath and spoke so softly that Mike had to strain to hear him.

"I learnt to listen hard in the Centre... because it sometimes meant the difference between surviving or not. My hearing got to be really good. I mean... _really_ good."

It didn't take much effort for Mike to understand what Bobby was talking about.

"You heard us talking. You heard me and Alex."

"I don't blame her for feeling like that," Bobby insisted in a trembling voice. "I... I..."

"You need to stop thinking about it," Mike cut him off gently. "What Alex said out there were her concerns... her fears. It's not your responsibility to worry about that, though. Your responsibility is to focus on recovering, and I don't just mean physically."

Bobby looked up at him, stricken.

"Alex is my partner... my best friend. My best friend just had to undress me and put me in the bath, because I had a nightmare and pissed in my bed like a baby."

Mike hesitated only a moment before reaching out one hand and laying it very gently on Bobby's shoulder, only too aware of the massive bruising that had now spread across the joint.

"Don't, Bobby. Don't do that to yourself. You've got nothing to be ashamed of, and we do all understand. Look at where you've come from, man! Nine months in hell! We know it's going to take time and support for you to get through this. That's why we're all here. So you can work through it in safety, and in your own time. You don't have to feel ashamed and you don't have to be afraid. Let us take care of you now, Bobby, like we were supposed to do to begin with."

Bobby answered that with silence, staring back down at the water.

"It wasn't anyone's fault," he said finally. Mike didn't interrupt, but waited patiently for Bobby to work through what he was trying to say.

"When they took me in the Chief of D's office... I know Jarod had warned us to be careful, but none of us imagined there might have been a threat from inside the Department. I... I hope no one blamed Captain Deakins. It wasn't his fault. He... He tried to protect me, but we were taken by surprise."

"I'd like to say no one laid blame," Mike said quietly, and at the same time listening with one ear for Alex's return. "But Alex was pretty angry at him for a while. And there wasn't anything any of us could to stop him from blaming himself. I think even now he still feels responsible. You might like to know, though, that Deakins dropped Harris in it well and truly with the Commissioner. The Commissioner knows what really happened to you now, thanks to a surveillance tape that Deakins managed to lay his hands on. Last thing we knew before leaving was that Harries had been summoned to appear before IAB, to answer for his part in your abduction."

Bobby shuddered.

"I... I still have trouble swallowing that."

"You mean that you were abducted?"

"Yeah," Bobby whispered. "It... It seems surreal... and the last nine months... I keep trying to tell myself that it was just a really horrible nightmare. Because when I let myself think about it... properly... I just want to curl up in a ball, shut my eyes and never wake up again. I... I want to end it, Mike. I want to end it all. I know I'm not supposed to think that way, but I am. It's nearly all I can think about."

"I understand that, Bobby," Mike assured him, and though he sounded calm on the outside, on the inside Mike was in turmoil. He knew it shouldn't have surprised him that Bobby was feeling suicidal, but to actually hear it from his friend's own lips was a serious reality check.

"I just don't think I have the strength left to fight," Bobby admitted miserably.

"Then let us fight for you," Mike told him, reaching over to ruffle his hair gently with gruff affection. "Okay, Bobby? Let us fight for you."

Bobby answered with a tentative nod, but looked more uncertain than ever.

"Okay."

* * *

When Alex returned, Mike said nothing of the turn his andBobby's conversation had taken. He helped to get Bobby out of the bath, dry him off and get him dressed. It was a more difficult task now than ever because all the bruising and swelling seemed to have finally come up on his injured shoulder, making it almost impossible for him to move his arm.

Once dressed, Alex then guided him to the kitchen for breakfast. Mike, however, detoured. He headed down the passageway and into the family room, where he found his partner flipping aimlessly through a book that someone had left behind.

She looked up at him questioning as he walked in.

"Mike? What's wrong?"

"I don't know," Mike admitted, the frustration starting to register in his voice. "Maybe... Do you know where the captain is?"

"No, I haven't seen him this morning. Mike, tell me what's wrong."

After a moment of indecision, Mike finally sat down in one of the armchairs.

"I'm worried about Bobby." Carolyn opened her mouth to speak, but Mike cut her off with a quick shake of his head. "I mean... I know we are are, but this is more than that. He told me that he can't stop thinking about..."

He trailed off, loathed to actually say the words. Walking around, Carolyn sat opposite him.

"About what, Mike?" she prompted him.

"About suicide," Mike admitted grimly. "He said he can't stop thinking about killing imself."

"He told you that?" Carolyn asked, disturbed. "He used those actual words?"

"Well, not _those_ words, not exactly. He actually said that he wants to end it, that it's all he can think about."

Carolyn contemplated that for a minute before answering.

"Saying he wants to end it could mean a number of different things. It doesn't necessarily mean he's thinking about suicide."

A frustrated sigh escaped Mike's lips.

"Carolyn, he started off by asking me if I thought it'd be better if he was dead, and finished with saying that he didn't think he had the strength left to fight. So yeah, I think it's safe to assume that he was talking about suicide."

"Oh boy," Carolyn muttered. "That's not good... Although, it's not that surprising, either."

"Surprising or not, we've got to do something about it," Mike said. "I need to find Deakins. We were talking about how we might need to call in a shrink. You know... someone who can help Bobby professionally, in ways that we can't."

"Did you have someone in mind?" Carolyn wondered, and Mike gave a quick nod.

"Yeah. I was thinking Olivet would be able to help him."

"Elizabeth Olivet?" Carolyn asked, and Mike nodded again in wordless confirmation. "Well, she _is_ good..."

"But?" Mike growled, frowning at his partner's choice of tone. Carolyn held up her hands defensively, smiling a little at his reaction.

"Down, boy. I know she's done a lot fo you, but given Bobby's state of mind, I just wonder whether she's really the right person to bring in for him. It just concerns me, because Olivet is great police psychiatrist, and psychiatrists tend to treat cops differently to civilian patients. Bobby needs someone who _isn't_ going to treat him first and foremost as a cop, and I just don't think Olivet is the right person for him."

Mike considered her words for a good few minutes before speaking in a slightly disgruntled tone.

"Well, if not Olivet, then who?"

Carolyn stood up, and urged Mike up as well.

"I think I know. C'mon. Let's go find Deakins."

* * *

They finally found Deakins outisde with Jarod, standing by a fence that encircled a large paddock with several horses. Deakins saw them coming, and indicated to the animals.

"What do you think?" he asked them. "You think we might be able to get Bobby up on horseback?"

Jarod smiled faintly as he watched the horses grazing.

"There are few things that give a feeling of freedom quite like riding a horse as fast as you can."

"Maybe we could, eventually," Mike conceded, and Deakins' smile faded at his tone.

"What is it? Mike? Carolyn?"

"I think it's time we called in a shrink for Bobby," Mike said at Carolyn's prompting. "Captain, he's talking about killing himself."

Deakins groaned softly.

"Damn it. I hoped he wouldn't have gotten to that state."

"Do you have any ideas who to call?" Jarod wondered, and Deakins looked questioningly at Mike.

"Do you still think Olivet is the right person to get?"

"Actually, Captain, we were just talking about that," Carolyn put in quickly. "Olivet is good, but she might go into it just treating Bobby like she might any other cop."

"You really think so?" Deakins asked in surprise.

"Maybe, maybe not," Carolyn said. "But what I do know is that if she _does_ start out with Bobby like that, she'll lose him before she starts. And with the state of mind he's in, we can't afford to take that chance."

"She is right," Jarod agreed quietly. Deakins sighed heavily.

"Fair enough. So, whowould_ you_ suggest, Carolyn?"

"I know someone from when I was working with the FBI, and he's damned good. Every case he deals with, he treats differently, according to that case. I know he'd work with Bobby _where_ Bobby's at right at the moment, and not expect him to be at a different level."

"Two things, Carolyn," Jarod said quietly. "Would he be willing to come here and stay with us, for as long as he's needed? There won't be any coming and going as he likes. And secondly, can he keep quiet about it?"

"He's a shrink," Carolyn said wryly. "The word 'confidentiality' is embedded into his brain. And yes, I think he'd be willing to come, and stay. But we can't just tell him over the phone. I'm not sure he'd believe it, unless it's face-to-face. And then there's the matter of clearing it with his supervisors."

"Leave that last part to me," Jarod assured her. "Then, as soon as I've done that, you and I will head back to New York, and pick him up."

Carolyn nodded in appreciation of his prompt reaction to the situation. Jarod caught her expression, and smiled sadly.

"I thought it might come to this eventually. He's hurting, and he's traumatised. The only reason we didn't have a psychiatrist ready when we brought him here was because we didn't know how he might react. After dealing with Sydney, and then Raines, it might just have been enough to push him right over the edge."

"And even now, he can probably spot a shrink a mile off," Deakins added with dry humour. "Better to have someone he already knows." He paused, and looked over at Carolyn. "I assume you _are_ talking about George Huang?"

She smiled in mild amusement.

"Yes. How did you know?"

"Because I've never heard you say a good word about anyone you knew from your days with the FBI. I also know you're good friends with the crew at SVU, and Huang is the only connection."

Carolyn laughed softly, impressed with his deductive skills.

"George introduced me to Elliot and Olivia," she confirmed. "He knew I was having a difficult time, and he thought they might be willing to let me join them occasionally for a drink. It turned into a real friendship. And George has always been a very good friend."

"Okay," Jarod agreed. "Let me make a couple of calls, and then we'll get going."

* * *

_Later that afternoon  
Dr George Huang's office  
Federal Bureau of Investigations  
New York City_

Dr George Huang walked into his office and sank into his chair, his mind awhirl. He had just come from his supervisor's office, and from being told that he had been pulled from his current assignment of working with the NYPD's Special Victims Unit, and was being assigned elsewhere.

He'd been given no details, only that there was no time frame for this new assignment. That was bizarre enough in itself, but then he was told to go an wait in his office, and that someone would be along to give him more details and escort him to this new assignment. No names, nothing. Just go and wait.

And so here he was, waiting for someone whose identity he didn't know, to go to a place whose location hadn't been disclosed, for an assignment he knew nothing about. Well, that was the FBI for you.

He had to admit, he was more than a little annoyed at being pulled out of the SVU assignment. Though it was difficult work, he enjoyed the company of the detectives there and, unlike his supervisor here at the FBI, Captain Cragen actually gave a damn about his welfare.

He wondered what and where this new assignment might be, and what could be so damned important that his supervisor felt it necessary to yank him so abruptly out of a current assignment.

His musings were interrupted by a light rapping on his office door. George looked up in amusement. It clearly was not a supervisor, or one of his colleagues. They never knocked.

"Come in," he called out, and the door swung open to reveal a familiar face. "Carolyn?"

She smiled wearily as she stepped inside the office and closed the door behind her.

"Hi, George," she murmured as he came around his desk and hugged her in greeting.

"How are you?" he asked, looking her over with a mixture of concern and delight. "I haven't seen you since just after you started with Major Case. How are they treating you over there? More specifically, how's that partner treating you?"

Carolyn had to smile at his tone, and she knew exactly what he meant. When she'd told him about her posting at Major Case, and that her new partner would be the infamous Mike Logan, he'd just about had a heart attack. He'd begged her to go into the job with both eyes wide open, and not take any chances.

"Mike is fine to work with," she assured him. "He's a great cop, and a really decent guy. I'm lucky to have had a chance to work with him. But... I didn't come to catch up, George. Um... Did your supevisors speak to you yet?"

George's eyebrows shot up. "Are you telling me that I've been hijacked by the Major Case Squad?"

"No, not exactly..." She paused, and then laughed softly. "Actually... that's _exactly_ what it is. It, um... it's not exactly official, though... Oh, damn. I'm not explaining this too well. George, basically, we need your help."

He stared at her for a long moment before urging her to sit down. Taking the chair beside her, he spoke quietly.

"Talk to me, Carolyn. What's going on?"

She drew in a long, shuddering breath before finally going on.

"You might have heard rumours about Bobby Goren disappearing."

George nodded slowly, his brow creasing into a slight frown.

"The story I heard was that he'd finally..."

"Cracked?" Carolyn suggested, and George nodded.

"For want of a better phrase, yes. And that he's taken an indefinite sabbatical."

"That's the official story," Carolyn told him.

"That he's on sabbatical? Or that he finally cracked?"

"The sabbatical story," Carolyn confirmed. "That's the one that Captain Deakins put out to keep the brass quiet, and keep his job safe. The rumour that he finally snapped started all on its own."

"Okay," George murmured. "So what's the other version, then?"

"Bobby was abducted."

George gaped at her. He couldn't help it, the statement caught him so completely off-guard.

"Abducted? Are you serious?"

"Yes. He was taken right from within One Police Plaza."

"My god... But you got him back, obviously?"

"Yes... less than forty-eight hours ago," Carolyn confirmed. "He was held captive for nine months, George. Nine months where he was physically abused, and tormented. The bastards that took him seriously fucked with his head. Now... George, he's suicidal. He's talking about ending everything, and we're all scared he might actually try it. Please, we need you to come and help him, before he does try something. He really does need proper psychiatric help."

George nodded, intrigued enough to take the case with just that minimal amount of information.

"Where is he? Bellevue?"

"Uh, no. Not exactly."

George paused in gathering his things together, and looked at her in puzzlement.

"Then where? He's not at home, is he...?"

"I can't tell you where he is," Carolyn told him. "Not here. I can't risk anyone hearing, who shouldn't. Please, George, you have to trust me."

"I trust you, Carolyn," he assured her. "Of course I trust you. Just tell me what I'm going to need."

"We'll take you home so that you can pack a bag. And if there's anyone you need to call, then do it now."

"I don't have anyone that I need to contact."

"Okay, then," Carolyn murmured, barely able to hide her relief. "Let's get going."

* * *

_tbc..._


	20. Sorrow's Child

A/N: _I am going to fucking kill my muse. Two weeks off, and nada on the Nano story. I am so far behind now, that I may not be able to catch up. This is what I get for writing an original story. Meh.  
On the other hand, this chapter should allay the fears of those who seem so worried that Mike was honing in Alex But I swear, if I get one word back about shippiness and incorrect pairings... (shakes fist threateningly)  
Seriously, I fell asleep writing on Saturday night, woke up not remembering what I wrote, and this is what happens. The muse takes over. We had a serious discussion about it, and all I could get was 'that's what you get for not following through with the death row escape fic'. Damn furball...  
Also, not as long as the previous chapter, but that's how it goes._

_

* * *

_

An hour later, they were on board a cessna, and on their way to Ontario. George listened intently as Carolyn told him the whole story of Bobby's abduction, from the actual abduction through to the dramatic rescue, and what they knew of the suffering that Bobby had endured.

"A pretender?" George asked again, frowning as he contemplated the word.

"Yes, that's right," Carolyn confirmed.

George sat back, fascinated.

"A child genius raised and trained to take on other identities, but never allowed to have one of their own."

Jarod, who had remained silent until then as he flew the little plane, glanced back over his shoulder at George with a wry smile.

"I couldn't have put that better myself, Doctor Huang."

"Well," George mused, "I can understand where Detective Goren's trauma is coming from."

"Actually, you can't," Jarod corrected him. "Before you see Bobby, there's something else you have to see. _Then_ you might have some idea about his traumas."

George looked at Carolyn, puzzled, and she offered him a small weary smile and nodded.

"He's right. Until you see the sin discs, you can't fully understand how awful it really is."

"Sim discs?" George asked, startled.

"Recordings of the simulations Bobby was forced to do," Carolyn explained to him. "And the experiments Raines conducted on him, too. Some of them... God, George, all I can say is that it's no wonder he's suicidal."

"We'll help him, Carolyn," George reassured her. "I promise that I'll do everything I can for him."

* * *

They arrived back at the house late that night to find just Charles and Deakins waiting for them. Deakins greeted George warmly, and it wasn't hard to see the relief in his expression, and hear it in his voice.

"Thankyou for agreeing to come, Dr Huang. We all appreciate it."

"I just hope I'll be able to help him," George said sincerely.

"How was he today?" Jarod asked.

"He's been quiet," Deakins answered. "He wasn't talking very much to anyone, except for Alex and Mike."

"Alex Eames?" George wondered, and Deakins replied with a quick nod.

"His partner, yes. I have to say, she's been an absolute god-send for Bobby. He's responded to her when no one else could reach him."

George looked thoughtful as they made their way through into the family room.

"And he's responding to Mike Logan as well?"

"On a lesser scale, yes," Deakins answered. "Out of all of us, they seem to be the two that Bobby trusts the most."

"That's good to know," George mused. Jarod bade them sit, and then began to set up the sim viewer.

"I'm sorry that you have to see this right now," Jarod apologised, "but it's vital that you understand as soon as possible what he's been through."

He selected a disc from the box that Sydney had given him, and slid it into the viewer to play.

* * *

"_I don't want to do this, Sydney."_

_Sydney walked around slowly, observing his charge with a harsh, critical gaze._

"_This is not an optional exercise, Bobby. You are expected to cooperate."_

_Bobby sat stiffly, his thin face pale as water._

"_I don't like this simulation. I'm not comfortable doing it. It... It just feels wrong."_

"_That's not for you to judge, Bobby. You've been given a simulation to perform. You must do it."_

"_Sydney, please don't make me do this," Bobby begged him. "Please, refuge..."_

_It was said with heartbreaking desperation, but Sydney appeared to be unmoved by his plea. Instead, he focused a hard stare at the younger man._

"_Would you prefer to spend the rest of the day in the company of Mr Raines? Because I can certainly organise that for you."_

_Bobby's already pale face turned grey at the blatant threat, and he shrank down in his seat, his breath quickening in his throat._

"_I... I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Sydney. I'll do the simulation. Please... just don't call Mr Raines."_

_Sydney relaxed a little, and laid a reassuring hand briefly on his shoulder._

"_All right, Bobby. I won't call Mr Raines. Now, continue with the simulation."_

_Visibly shaking, Bobby picked up a photo on the desk in front of him. With a trembling hand, he traced the image of the child in the picture._

"_He... He likes..."_

"_**You**, Bobby," Sydney interrupted him firmly. "You **are** him, now."_

_Again, a noticeable shudder passed through Bobby, but he conceded with a small, reluctant nod._

"_I like small children... They're easy to overpower... but it's more than that. Their... their innocence is what really attracts me."_

"_Why?" Sydney pressed. "Why does that attract you?"_

"_I envy it," Bobby said, struggling to keep his voice even, and the bile down. "I envy them for what I lost. And it makes me so angry. I... I want to strip them of it, the way my parents stripped me of mine."_

_As he spoke, Bobby's hands slowly crushed the photo he held, and the placid expression on his face was slowly replaced with a dark and frightening rage._

"_Is that why you rape them?" Sydney asked._

"_Yes," Bobby answered roughly. "That's why I fuck them."_

"_Then why kill them?" Sydney pressed. "You succeed in stripping them of their innocence through raping them. Wouldn't killing them negate that?"_

_Bitter hatred and raw anger had twisted Bobby's features harshly by then as his mind sank deeper still into the simulation._

"_Parents would hide it. They always hide. Pretend it didn't happen. I fuck the babies to teach them a lesson."_

"_What lesson?"_

"_Life's cruel. Nothing is really innocent. I kill them them so everyone will see they're not innocent anymore. When they're dead, the truth can't be hidden. Their mommies and daddies can't cover it up. They can't hide the truth."_

_He swept his hand around, indicating the news clipping that were strewn over the desk, with headlines like 'Three Year-Old Raped, Gutted'._

"_See?" he said with a twisted satisfaction. "No cover up. Everyone knows the truth."_

"_Is that what you want?" Sydney asked. "That everyone knows the truth about you? About what happened to you?"_

"_It's too late for me," Bobby said in a guttural tone. "This isn't about me. Not anymore."_

"_So you believe you're beyond redemption, not because of the children, but because of your parents," Sydney deduced. _

"_They're dead," Bobby said dismissively. "What good would that truth be now?"_

"_If that is the case, then why do this to others? Make me understand."_

_Silence met Sydney's demand. Then, finally, Bobby spoke once more in his own voice – shattered and miserable._

"_He didn't take their innocence."_

_Sydney ceased his pacing, staring at Bobby piercingly. _

"_Explain that."_

_Bobby passed his hand slowly over the many pictures of the murdered children, stricken with sudden understanding._

"_They'd already lost their innocence. Every one of these children had already been abused. By their father... or their mother... He targeted abused children. That's the truth he was trying to make everyone see. That these children were all being abused by their parents."_

_Sydney walked over and clapped him lightly on the shoulder. _

"_Well done, Bobby," Sydney praised him quietly. "Very well done."_

"_Please," Bobby whispered plaintively. "Can I go back to my room now? I... I don't feel very good."_

_Sydney conceded with a nod._

"_Of course. And tomorrow, I'll have a simulation for you to perform that won't be quite as taxing on you."_

_Bobby said nothing as he stood up to allow Sydney to escort him back to his room, but the broken look on his face spoke in volumes...

* * *

_

George sat back, both disturbed and intrigued by what he'd just witnessed.

"Are they all as bad as that?" he asked quietly.

"Some don't seem as bad," Jarod answered. "But there are a lot that are much worse."

"Worse?" George murmured in dismay, as though he had trouble accepting that was possible. He looked around at them, concern suddenly in his eyes. "Is someone with him now?"

Deakins nodded.

"Yes, Alex is with him. Don't worry, he hasn't been left alone."

"Good," George said with visible relief. "That's good."

"He knows that he needs help," Carolyn said quietly. "He told Mike that he's feeling suicidal. That's got to be a positive step in itself, right?"

"It is," George agreed, "but the problem is that there's a big difference between knowing you need help, and actually accepting help." He paused, and then went on quietly. "I'd like the opportunity to speak to Detective Eames and Detective Logan before I talk with Detective Goren. If they're the ones that he's responding to the most, then it might provide some insight on how I can best begin."

"First thing in the morning," Deakins promised.

* * *

"I think I'm beginning to understand what you mean," George said as Jarod took him to an empty bedroom. Jarod nodded.

"The abuse that Bobby was dealt over the last nine months was a hundred times worse than what he went through as a child in the Centre. He's hurting now – physically, mentally and emotionally, and none of us know where to start to help him."

"Nightmares?" George queried, and Jarod nodded.

"To say the least. But Alex and Mike couldn tell you more about that than I can."

"I'll talk to them first thing tomorrow, then. Tell me, though, does Detective Goren know that I was coming?"

"Alex and Mike were going to tell him," Jarod confirmed.

"Good," George said. "It's important that we try to ensure that he's always aware of what's going on. No surprises, not for any reason."

Jarod nodded approvingly. He was pleased with George's approach, and with his open attitude. It gave Jarod hope that maybe, just maybe, there was still a chance for Bobby to recover.

* * *

Rather than sitting beside the bed when Bobby turned in that night, Alex lay down with him, her arms around him in a protective gesture. He didn't object, settling down and relaxing against her. It was a while before sleep came for either of them, though, and after a little while she happened to look down to find he was watching her through half-closed eyes.

Caught out, he quickly averted his gaze, and she couldn't resist a smile at his behaviour.

"Not sleepy?" she asked softly, impulsively pressing a light kiss to the top of his head. He didn't answer; not that that surprised her. Silence fell again, the minutes ticked by and Alex was just starting to feel herself drifting off when Bobby's voice cut into her consciousness.

"Did you ever stop...?"

Alex hesitated, and then shifted her position slightly so that she could better see his face. He still wouldn't look at her, but she thought she could see tears on his cheeks.

"Did I ever stop what, Bobby?"

"Thinking about me?"

She heard the tremor in his voice, and felt her throat tighten.

"No," she promised him. "I never did. And I never let myself stop thinking that we'd find you again. If I'd let that happen, then I don't think I would have been able to go on."

"I... I thought about you... all the time," Bobby whispered. "When I was frightened... or hurting... I pictured your face in my mind. And I drew pictures... of you... of Captain Deakins... of my mom..."

Alex swallowed hard at the unpleasant memory that his words raised.

"Bobby, tell me something?"

"Mm?"

"Your mom..."

Even as she said it, she felt him stiffen. Steeling herself, she ventured on.

"Were you ever allowed to call your mom again? After that day when we intercepted your phone call?"

He didn't answer, and she wasn't sure whether he couldn't, or wouldn't."

"Bobby, please tell me," she begged him, and at the same time wondered why she was pressing for an answer that she wasn't sure she wanted to hear.

"No," he said finally, his voice broken and filled with a despair that gutted Alex. "After that, they never let me near another phone. They didn't want to take the risk."

"I'm sorry," Alex whispered, hugging him as fiercely as she dared. "I am so sorry, Bobby. We were so desperate to hear your voice, that none of us stopped to think about what it might have cost you. It was selfish of us, and I'm so sorry."

He turned his face upwards, then, looking at her tiredly.

"Don't be sorry," he told her. "Hearing your voices... It proved that you hadn't decided to just forget about me. I clung to that for as long as I could... and especially after I escaped." He faltered, looking at her tentatively, as though he was suddenly unsure of how she'd respond. "I... I did get away from them... once... but I was caught again."

"I know," she murmured sadly, recalling with bitterness when Mike had told her on the quiet the story of Bobby's failed escape attempt. She had been furious at first that he'd not told her sooner – he'd finally caved and told her nearly two months after the fact. But then he'd pointed out that he and Deakins had not found out themselves until nearly two weeks after Bobby's recapture. In that respect, she could understand their reluctance to tell her, for fear that it would just compound her misery. And, indeed, it had. The only good thing to come of it, from her perspective, was the knowledge that Bobby was still fighting. "I heard about parts of it. Can you tell me what happened?"

"A... Angelo helped me..."

She watched him, watched as the emotions played across his face. Fear, sadness, despair... Emotions that at one time she would never have imagined seeing on his face, especially not all at the same time. She cradled his head to her shoulder, wishing more than anything that she could erase his misery.

"Who's Angelo?" she asked, intrigued that there might have been someone within the Centre who had actually tried to render practical help to Bobby.

"He was another child, like Jarod... like me. Raines experimented on him... Destroyed his personality... But he was my friend in there. Just about the only friend I had, except for..."

He trailed off, and Alez gently stroked his forehead at the trembling sensation that passed through his body.

"Except for?" she prompted, but he circumvented her query very neatly by returning to the original topic of discussion.

"Angelo helped me to escape. He got me out one night... through the ventilation tunnels."

Alex sucked in a sharp breath.

"And you didn't try to contact us?"

But even as she spoke the words, she knew she was wrong. Of course, Bobby would have tried to contact them, had he been able.

"I was drugged," Bobby said, confirming her suspicions. "It... It was one of Raines' experiments. I don't really remember anything between walking along a tunnel with Angelo, and waking up in the woods. I wandered around for a while in a daze before I found a road... Damn near got hit by a truck, too. The driver picked me up, and I thought I was safe, then." He shook his head, bitter at the memory. "Should've known better. He... He took me to a town. I don't know which one. Left me with the local PD. The sherriff there... I begged him to call Captain Deakins, and I thought he did... but he lied to me. He didn't call Deakins. He called _them_. By the time I realised I'd been tricked, it was too late. I never really had a chance. I was back in that hell-hole within twenty-four hours. After that, I never got another chance. The only times I was left alone after that was when they locked me in my room."

Alex hugged him tightly, struggling to suppress her anger.

"I'd like to get my hands on that son of a bitch sherriff. Maybe, when you're feeling better... When you're back at work, we can find out where that was, and pay the sherriff a little visit. I bet Deakins would be in on that. Mike and Carolyn, too. I bet it would give that son of a bitch one hell of a heart attack, to have you march in there... Or, better yet, haul his ass to New York, into One Police Plaza. That would be better still."

"I... I don't know," Bobby whispered, and Alex caught the faintest of tremors in his tone. "I don't know if I could do that. See... See him again. See _any_ of them again..."

Alex shifted her position and tightened her hold on Bobby ever so slightly.

"You don't have to lay eyes on any of them, ever again. I'm sorry, Bobby. Just ignore me. I'm just babbling now. I'll be quiet, if you want me to be."

"No, please..." Bobby begged her anxiously. "I... I like listening to you. It reassures me that I'm not just dreaming this whole thing. It scares me... thinking that maybe I _am_ just dreaming it all, and that maybe you're not really here. M... Maybe I'm still in the Centre, and this is all just a hallucination... Another of Raines' experiments..."

Alex stared down at him in dismay, realising that, in his increasing distress, he really was starting to believe that possibility. Even with her arms around him, she could feel him slipping away from her, losing his fragile grip on reality. Even as she watched, his eyes began to galze over as the terrifying memories of his nine months in captivity began to take hold.

Desperate to reassure him that this _was_ reality, she settled on an extreme course of action.

"Bobby, listen to me. If I'm just a hallucination, would I do this?"

And with that, she leaned over and kissed him firmly on the mouth.

* * *

She didn't know how he would react. She couldn't even be sure in herself why she did it. All she knew was an overwhelming urge to make Bobby understand somehow that he was free, he was safe, and that he had no cause to be afraid. And the only way she knew to convey that was with love.

* * *

Bobby lay frozen, eyes wide open with astonishment, and too stunned to respond in any way. Unexpected though it was, the kiss had succeeded in jolting him back to the present, and he stared up at her speechlessly.

Alex didn't try to move, either closer to him or further away. She continued to lie beside him, her arms around him protectively and, as she watched, she saw the astonishment slowly fade from his eyes, and watched as he slowly relaxed.

"I'm not going to apologise for that," she murmured. "But I don't expect you to reciprocate, either. I love you, Bobby, and right now I just want you to feel safe." She gently brushed her thumb over his eyes, drawing them closed. "Close your eyes, Bobby. Go to sleep. Everything is okay. You're safe."

She felt him relax completely against her as sleep took him.

"You're safe," she whispered sadly, at the same time praying that George Huang's arrival would be a good thing for Bobby, and that he would respond positively to the psychiatrist. She shuddered as she struggled to hold back her tears. She prayed George would be able to help Bobby, before it was too late.

* * *

_tbc..._


	21. On The Brink

At some point through the night, Alex awoke to a violent trembling sensation, and the soft, pitiful sound of someone whimpering and crying. She groaned softly and tried to move, but to no avail. Her shoulder felt stiff and sore, with a deadweight pinning her down, and the shoulder strap of the singlet top she was wearing was damp. Something also lay heavily across her stomach, causing the muscles to threaten to cramp.

Forcing her eyes open, it took her a moment for her eyes to adjust to the dark. Then, as her vision focused on the dark head at the bottom of her line of sight, she remembered. She'd fallen asleep cradling Bobby in her arms, after he'd been unable to relax on his own. Unfortunately, the position which had comforted and quieted him enough to be able to sleep was now proving to be more than a little awkward for her.

His head was resting on her shoulder, and it was his arm which pressed down so heavily on her stomach. The wetness she felt was from his tears, and the whimpers and sobs came from his lips. Another nightmare, she thought sadly, her fingertips playing lightly over his hair. Grimacing, she shifted her position, and tried to maneouvre herself out from under him, only to have his arm tighten its grip around her waist, almost to the point of pain.

"Damn, Bobby," she grumbled, wincing in discomfort as the need to urinate suddenly became very profound. Grasping his wrist, she tried to pry his arm off her, only to stop when he gave a wretched sob.

"No..." he moaned in his sleep, clutching at her more tightly still. "Please no... Don't... Don't take me away again..."

She froze, and then reluctantly released his hand. She had to find some way to make him let go of her, though – and soon – or she was going to be the one having an accident in bed. Opting for a different approach, Alex began to stroke his cheek and forehead, hoping that the gentle touch would reassure and calm him, and ultimately relax him enough that she'd be able to slip out of his grasp.

She was quietly amazed that he hadn't been woken by her movements, and she began to wonder in the back of her mind, just how damaged he really was from all sadistic experiments that Raines had conducted on him.

"It's okay, Bobby," she murmured to him. "No one's going to take you away again, I promise. It's all okay. You're okay. Hush, now..."

To her concern, though, his distressed sobs only seemed to worsen, and his grip on her didn't lessen at all. If anything, it became tighter still.

"C'mon, Bobby, please," Alex begged him through gritted teeth. "Let go of me, baby. We're both going to be really embarrassed if you don't..."

There was still no response from him, caught up as he was in the depths of his nightmare. He gave a shaky sob, and nuzzled in harder against her shoulder. Any other time, Alex might have found the gesture adorable, but her comfort levels were dropping as fast as her need to get up was growing.

"Ugh..." she muttered as she squirmed uncomfortably. "You're sleeping with a teddy bear, tomorrow night, buddy..."

The sound of footsteps outside the bedroom door drew her attention, and she looked up just as George Huang peered in.

"Detective Eames? Is that you?"

Alex nodded, torn between embarrassment and relief.

"Yes, it's me. Could you give me a hand, please? I need to get up, but I can't wake him up, and he won't let go of me."

George ventured into the room, taking in the curious sight before him with a bemused smile. Alex caught his expression, and scowled.

"Don't even think about psychoanalysing this. It was the only way to calm him down, and get him to go to sleep in the first place."

She strategically avoided mentioning her unconventional tactic in keeping Bobby from losing his apparently tenuous grip on reality earlier that evening. To her mind, there was definitely no need for _that_ to become common knowledge.

George smiled wryly, reading more into her expression than she realised she was letting on about.

"I wouldn't dream of it, Detective. What do you need me to do?"

"Do you think you could pry his arm off me? I _really_ need to go to the bathroom."

He walked over and took hold of Bobby's arm. The reaction was immediate – a frightened cry escaped Bobby's lips and he twisted awkwardly in his sleep, causing Alex to grunt in pain as his grip on her increased markedly.

"Stop trying to be gentle about it," Alex told him breathlessly. "It's not helping any."

Frowning a little, George increased the force with which he tried to release the vice-like grip that Bobby had on his petite partner. Bobby's distressed sobs increased in intensity but he still didn't wake up, even when George resorted to prying his fingers off Alex one by one.

"Thankyou," Alex muttered in embarrassed relief when she was finally able to stand up. "Excuse me, I'll be right back."

Then she ducked into the ensuite, closing the door behind her. George smiled faintly, but instead of turning to go, he took the opportunity to observe Bobby neutrally, without Bobby being aware of it.

Without the comfort of a warm body to cling to, Bobby seemed to be almost folding in on himself, curling into a tight, protective ball. Even in the dark, George had no difficulties making out Bobby's emaciated features, and his too-pale skin. After a moment's hesitation, George reached down and carefully drew back the collar of Bobby's pyjama top to reveal the beginning of what looked like a very nasty burn.

He withdrew his hand, not caring for Bobby to wake up to find an unfamiliar face peering down at him, and a hand poking and prodding at him. After all that Carolyn and Jarod had described to him, he reasonably guessed that Bobby would react fairly badly to a situation like that.

"It's a little scary, seeing the changes in him," Alex said as she emerged from the bathroom. George looked at her quizzically.

"What sort of changes?"

"Just simple things, really. Before this, he slept in boxer shorts, and nothing else. I suggested he do that tonight... It is pretty warm in here after all... but he nearly panicked."

"Well..." George mused, deciding against asking how Alex knew what Bobby's sleeping attire was before his abduction – at least for the time being. "Being unclothed gives a feeling of vulnerability. Bobby wants to feel that he;s safe, and being fully covered, either in bed or during the day, contributes to that feeling of security. It's not a bad thing, Detective Eames."

Alex sighed as she sat down gingerly on the side of the bed, and reached over to brush her fingertips lightly over Bobby's temple.

"And he never used to sleep as deeply as this. Before, he would have woken at the slightest sound, or touch. He would never have slept on like this."

"Again... is that necessarily a bad thing?" George asked lightly.

"I suppose not," Alex conceded tiredly. "It's just..."

"It scares you?" George suggested, and Alex's brow creased in mild irritation.

"I'm not the one you came to help, Doctor."

"It's true, I'm here to help Bobby," George agreed. "But that doesn't mean I can't offer my services to the rest of you. If you want... or need to talk, Detective Eame, I'm here."

"Thankyou," Alex murmured sincerely. She paused, and then looked at him with a small smile. "You're probably going to be here for as long as we are. Just call me Alex. I'm not a cop here. None of us are."

George nodded amiably.

"In that case, I'll expect you to call me George. Will you be okay now?"

She nodded.

"Yes. Thankyou."

He was just turning to leave when she called after him.

"George?"

"Yes?" he asked. Alex hesitated, as though unsure of what to say.

"Thankyou for coming," she said finally, softly.

It was a plain enough statement, but the emotion in her voice easily conveyed all that she wasn't saying. George smile warmly at her in response.

"You're welcome."

* * *

When Jarod awoke the next morning, just before six, the first thing he did was to check his email. For the last two days, he had been anxiously awaiting a special package, and a grin lit up his face as he realised that this morning, it had finally arrived.

Opening the attachment, Jarod watched the footage all the way through with a grim satisfaction before downloading it onto a disc. He then dressed quickly, and hurried from his room to go to the kitchen and wait for everyone to get up.

He wasn't the first one to rise, he discovered upon walking into the kitchen. To his surprise, and consternation, Bobby was already there. He sat at the table, alone and still in the dark, and in front of him on the table was a knife – small, but dangerously sharp.

Jarod stood in the doorway, frozen, his heart in his throat. Right at that moment, Bobby was just sitting there, and wasn't actually touching the blade. His hands rested on the tabletop, and he seemed to be just staring at the blade, but Jarod dared not move or speak lest Bobby be startled, and do something foolish. He was still trying to decide what to do when Bobby spoke softly, so softly that Jarod strained to hear him.

"I'm not going to."

Consciously willing himself to move, Jarod walked over and gingerly picked the knife up off the table, placing it over on the bench, beyond Bobby's immediate reach. Then, he sat down beside him.

"I thought about it," Bobby went on in a stilted voice. "I really did. B... Been sitting here for nearly two hours... just thinking about it."

_Two hours...?_ Jarod thought, shaken. He could have well and truly sliced and diced himself in that time, if he'd really wanted to. He grimaced a little, and made a mental note to tell his mother to lock up all the knives, and anything else that had the potential to double as a weapons.

"Why didn't you?" he asked quietly, hoping for some insight into what was going on inside Bobby's mind. For nearly a minute, Bobby didn't respond. When he did eventually answer, it was with his gaze fixed on his hands as they rested on the table.

"He... He's here now... isn't he? Dr Huang? You brought him here, didn't you?"

"Yes, he's here," Jarod confirmed. "Do you feel ready to talk to him?"

A bitter, strangled laugh escaped Bobby's lips.

"No. But... I know I need to."

"Will you be willing to talk to him?" Jarod asked. Bobby's gaze flickered up to meet Jarod's just briefly before returning to the tabletop.

"I'll try," he said simply, and Jarod nodded encouragingly.

"Well, that's a start."

"Angelo," Bobby said suddenly, after a long silence. Jarod looked at him, puzzled.

"What about Angelo?"

"He... He helped me, when he could... He told me to be patient, that you were coming back for me. But... you took so long. I started to think... C... Couldn't help but wonder if you were going to come back."

Sickening guilt twisted in Jarod's gut, even worse than Alex's questions of him. He knew that telling Bobby of his intial failed attempts would only cause even more pain, and he didn't want to cause more hurt to Bobby than he already had.

"I'm sorry," he said finally, attempting to offer no explanation.

"Did... I mean... Were you at least trying?"

"Yes," Jarod insisted, leaning forward in an effort to meet Bobby's gaze, so that the other man could see his honesty. "Yes, Bobby, I promise you that I was. I never stopped working to get you out. I am so sorry that it took so long, and I can't blame you for being angry, but I really am sorry."

Whether or not Bobby accepted the sincere apology, Jarod had no way of knowing, for Bobby's attention was suddenly fixed on the disc that Jarod held in his hands.

"What's that?"

Jarod glanced down at the disc, and smiled grimly.

"This, Bobby, is reassurance that it's going to a long, long time before the Centre can even begin to think about coming after either one of us again. As soon as everyone else is up, I'll play the disc."

"What's on it?" Bobby asked.

"A promise that you're safe," Jarod told him softly and sincerely.

* * *

It wasn't long after Jarod found Bobby in the kitchen that Alex came in, frantic with worry after waking up to find Bobby gone. And though neither Jarod nor Bobby said a word when she walked in, aside from a soft greeting, she couldn't miss the knife that Jarod had set aside on the bench. Her gaze went to Jarod, and he answered the unspoken question with a grim look of his own. Alex paled noticeably, and sat down beside Bobby, regret in her eyes.

"I'm sorry," she murmured. She wanted desperately to reach out, to touch him, but she didn't dare. Not quite yet. "I didn't wake up when you did."

Bobby didn't respond, but she noticed that his gaze had become fixed on her hands. Hoping he wouldn't react negatively, Alex reached over and gently closed her hand over his. For nearly a minute, Bobby didn't react in any way at all. Then, in a simple but tender gesture, he rotated his wrist, and turned his hand in hers so that they were palm to palm.

Jarod watched in fascination at the simple, wordless interaction between the two. It was true, he reflected in quiet wonder. Bobby really did trust Alex like no other. In the midst of his fears, his trauma, and his slowly degenerating state of mind, he still trusted her whole-heartedly.

He wouldn't look directly at her, though, Jarod noted, and he wondered just what that was a result of – his fears and traumas that had been inflicted on him by Raines' and Sydney's experiments and simulations? Or some deeper trauma or shame that none of them yet knew about. It disturbed him to think that perhaps there might be something more, something worse buried inside Bobby's psyche that had the potential to cause him to literally self-destruct.

Jarod grimaced to himself, and made a mental note to mention it to George. For whatever might be there, it was entirely possible that Bobby would only talk about it within the confidentiality of a psychiatric session.

Alex seemed to be aware of his reticence and, tempted though she was to employ one of his tricks to get him to look at her properly, she restrained herself. Instead, she contented herself to just sit there with him and hope that, for the time being, at least, the simple contact was enough to reassure him.

* * *

An hour later saw everyone awake and gathered in the family room, waiting while Jarod set up the TV and DVD player to play the disc he had.

"So, you've got something to show and tell?" Mike asked dryly. Jarod nodded, opting not to take offence at Mike's flippant tone. He'd learnt early on not to take to heart Mike's attitude. He'd learnt not to take any of their attitudes too personally. Concern for Bobby's wellbeing was filling all their minds, and it left precious little room for cordiality. It especially didn't help to know that Bobby was potentially at risk of trying to harm himself and, in Jarod's opinion, the anxiety they were all feeling was more than enough justification to overlook any incivilities.

He really didn't mind. He understood, more than any of them would ever really know.

"Well, they say a picture is worth a thousand words," Jarod said simply, "so this ought to be worth a hundred times that."

He hit play, and stepped away from the television, to give them all a clear view.

Dan Ellis appeared in frame, his features illuminated by articificial light. He appeared to be crouching in the open doorway of the helicopter and behind him in the distance, nicely framed by the doorway, was the Centre.

"_Okay_," Ellis said into the camera. "_We've set down a safe distance away from the Centre. It's zero-one-thirty, and both buildings have been evacuated. My men have personally assured this. Our intention, after all, isn't to take lives, but to cripple the Centre." He shifted to the side, out of sight of the camera, but his voice came through clearly. "Okay, boys. Let's see some fireworks_."

For the next ten seconds, they were all treated to a clear view of the Centre buildings. Seated between Alex and Mike, Bobby sat stiffly and his breath came in hitched gasps, his gaze fixed on the place where he'd suffered nine months of torment. Mike's arm found its way around Bobby's shoulders, and rested there in a comforting gesture.

"Easy, buddy," he murmured, taking care that his hand didn't grip Bobby's shoulder even loosely. "It's okay, pal."

A split second later, there was a dull roar, followed by all the windows on the lower levels of the Centre buildings exploding outwards. Thick clouds of dust and fragments followed, billowing outwards and obscuring their view.

The charges had been well placed. Even as they watched, a shockwave passed through the buildings, like a singlular violent tremor, and a massive blast shattered the silence as both buildings exploded simultaneously, lighting up the night with a blaze of rolling fire.

Ellis' men had placed gas cannisters at strategic points throughout the building, so the explosions came like waves, one after another, moving up and up until the entire structure was a ball of flame and smoke, like a monster consuming itself in a ravenous rage.

They watched in silence as the buildings that had served as the Centre's prime base of operations crumbled and collapsed, falling in on itself an disintegrating so completely that there was no chance for restoration.

By the time Dan Ellis shifted back into the camera's view, all that remained of the Centre was an enormous pile of rubble.

"_And that concludes our involvement in this operation_," Ellis said into the camera. "_Take care, people, and thankyou_."

The screen flickered once, and went dark. Silence reigned, and it was a good couple of minutes before Charles finally spoke in a soft, harsh voice.

"Well, good riddance to the place, that's all I can say."

Margaret patted her husband's hand gently, and then looked around at Bobby. What she saw in his expression gave her chills.

"Bobby?"

All eyes turned to him, but Bobby seemed oblivious to the attention. He sat froze, staring at the now blank screen with an expression that was inscrutable. Sparing a worried glance at Mike, Alex gently clasped Bobby's hands in her own.

"Are you okay?" she asked, hating herself for asking such a fool question, but not knowing what else to say. Bobby didn't reply, didn't even look at her. After a moment, Jarod came over and dropped into a crouch in front of Bobby.

"Bobby? Did you see all of that? They won't be coming after you now. Not for a long time, and by the time they do get themselves reorganised, we'll have worked out how to protect you from them permanently. Do you understand? You're safe now, Bobby. You're safe."

Bobby's gaze finally shifted from the blank television screen, and dropped to meet Jarod's gaze. For several seconds, the two men stared at each other. Then, without warning, Bobby launched himself to his feet, pulling loose from Alex and Mike's protective hands and sending Jarod crashing over backwards. Distress and panic all over his face, Bobby wheeled around and fled the room, leaving them all behind in stunned silence.

* * *

_tbc..._


	22. I'll Never Be Safe

"Uh... What the fuck...?" Mike asked, stunned by Bobby's abrupt and unexpected exit.

"He couldn't possibly be upset at seeing that place destroyed, could he?" Margaret wondered incredulously.

"Stockholm Syndrome," Carolyn murmured worriedly, and George nodded his agreement with her tentative assessment.

"More than likely. He hated the place, but there was a strong attachment there, as well."

Frowning, Alex started to get up.

"Stockholm my ass. I'm going to go and talk to him."

She was stopped, though, when George rose up and laid a hand on her shoulder.

"Let me, Alex. I'll talk to him."

For a brief moment, it looked as though she was going to disregard him, and go anyway. But then, slowly and with visible reluctance, she dropped back onto the sofa, next to Mike. Nodding with gratitude at her apparent trust, George hurried from the room to find Bobby.

* * *

Bobby fled to the only safe haven he knew now – his bedroom. Shaking, and sick to his stomach with distress, he sank to the floor in the same corner of the room where Alex had found him the previous morning. And it was there that George found him, trembling uncontrollably and struggling to hold back sobs.

George paused in the doorway, watching Bobby thoughtfully. He knew that after nine months in captivity, it was entirely likely that Bobby was suffering from Stockholm Syndrome, but somehow he didn't think that was the reason behind Bobby's reaction to the footage they'd just seen. It wasn't anger that Bobby had displayed at seeing the destruction of the Centre; it was fear. Despite seeing the Centre blown up and left in ruins, Bobby was still acutely afraid.

He didn't yet understand why, but if he was going to begin to help Bobby, he needed to find out as soon as possible. He only hoped that Bobby would be willing to talk to him.

Making a snap decision, George walked over and sat down on the floor opposite the big detective, making certain to allow Bobby plenty of space. He sat up straight, ensuring they were eye to eye, and saying nothing while he waited to be sure Bobby was aware of his presence.

For his part, Bobby said nothing, but peered disconcertedly at George, as though uncertain of what he wanted.

"I think your friends were expecting a somewhat different reaction from you."

Still Bobby stayed silent, and he looked away in misery. George considered his next words carefully before continuing on.

"You're not sorry to see that place destroyed."

It was a statement of fact, not a question. Bobby glanced at him briefly, but still stayed silent. George wasn't surprised. He knew Bobby Goren's reputation where psychiatrists were concerned. He'd heard many a story from Emil Skoda of Bobby's infamous ability to run rings around Departmental psychiatrists. It was no surprise to him here and now that he was going to have to work to get his newest patient to open up. His only consolation was that in his current state of mind, Bobby was hopefully not up to playing those mind games.

"What is it that you're afraid of, Bobby?" George asked softly. The look on Bobby's face turned incredulous.

"Did they tell you anything?" he asked hoarsely. George didn't flinch away from the hostility in Bobby's eyes and voice.

"I know the basics."

He made no effort to suggest that Bobby tell him anything. He either would, or he wouldn't, and no amount of prodding was going to draw the grim tale out of Bobby if he didn't want to share it.

Bobby looked away again, his body shuddering as he cried silent tears. George also sat in silence, trying to decide what to say next. A good few minutes passed when Bobby suddenly spoke.

"He's wrong."

"Who is?" George asked, pleased that Bobby had found his voice without having to be prompted.

"Jarod," Bobby whispered. "He said I'd be safe, but he's wrong."

"Why do you think that?" George asked, genuinely confused.

"The Centre," Bobby whispered shakily, sounding as though every word he spoke was causing him actual, physical pain. "It... It's not just a building. And there... there are other Centre bases, anyway. It... It's the people, too... And the people all escaped."

And then George understood.

"You're afraid they'll still come after you, even though the base is gone."

A bitter, guttural laugh erupted from deep within Bobby's throat, and that sound of it was chilling to George's ears.

"I'm not a fool. I _know_ they will." He paused, still shedding tears. "I'll never be safe. As long as Raines, Lyle, Sydney... As long as all of them are alive, I'll never be safe."

George watched him intently, trying to determine what he could possibly say to assuage Bobby's fear and distress, but the truth was that he didn't yet have anything to offer. After a long moment's thoughtful consideration, he decided to opt for a temporary measure.

"Bobby, I have a question for you, and I want you, and I want you to think about it before you answer me."

"What?" Bobby asked hoarsely.

"Do you feel safe here?"

Bobby shut his eyes, and George waited in patient silence for him to think about it. The minutes ticked by, but still George didn't interrupt, or try to rush a response from him. Patience was a virtue, but in this case it was also absolutely vital.

When Bobby looked at George again, his eyes were wet with fresh tears, and he seemed almost on the verge of a complete breakdown. He spoke in a whisper that George had to strain to hear.

"Y... Yes."

"Can you bring yourself to completely trust at least one person here?"

Bobby didn't need to think about that.

"Alex," he whispered and George nodded, not the least bit surprised.

"If you trust Alex, then can you accept that she trusts everyone else that's here?"

Even in his state of mind, it didn't take Bobby much effort to see where George was taking this.

"If I trust Alex... and she trusts everyone else... then I can trust them too."

George had to smile.

"Yes," he said simply.

Bobby stared at him, and the exhaustion in his eyes was all too visible.

"Was... Was that our first s... session?"

"I guess so," George conceded.

"You didn't a... ask how I was f... feeling."

It took a monumental effort on George's part not to laugh out loud at that.

"Bobby, I'd be a pretty poor psychiatrist if I couldn't figure that out just by looking at you. I promise you now that I'm not going to ask you idiot questions like that without having a specific intent. All right?"

Bobby nodded, too shaken and too exhausted to be able to show the relief he felt.

"And... what's your intent n... now?"

George considered that for a moment before replying.

"You need to be able to focus now and concentrate on recovering... physically, mentally _and _emotionally. You're only going to be able to do that if you feel safe, and in order to feel safe here, you need to be able to trust the people around you now. We've established that you trust us, haven't we?"

Bobby let his breath out in a shuddering sigh as he finally realised where George was taking this.

"Yes," he agreed softly.

"Okay. Then, can you accept that you're safe?"

Another shuddering sigh, and George watched the tension and fear begin to bleed out of Bobby's abused body.

"Yes."

* * *

When George returned to the family room, he wasn't surprised to find none of them had moved. Nor was he surprised that when he walked back in, the first person to get up was Alex.

"Is he all right?" she asked anxiously. George mused with quiet interest that Alex's concern was for Bobby's state of mind and wellbeing, and that she seemed to have no immediate interest in what had triggered his reaction in the first place.

"For now," George answered. "He's still in his room. You can go to him..."

He barely finished the sentence before Alex literally bolted from the room.

"You know," he mused, "I'd need a bit longer observing them, but I'd almost be inclined to think that they're..."

"Don't go there, Doctor," Deakins cut him off quickly. George raised an eyebrow in bemusement.

"You don't think they are...?"

"I didn't say that, but what I am saying is that while we're here, and the situation is what it is, I am not going to speculate. We've already had to do things that none of us would have otherwise considered doing... things that ordinarily would have been unprofessional. But that's what circumstances at the moment are dictating, and so that's just how it is. How it has to be." He frowned slightly as his own perceived inability to express himself properly. "I'm sorry, I don't think I'm making much sense."

"On the contrary, Captain Deakins, you're making perfect sense," George reassured him.

"So, are you going to tell us what happened?" Mike asked, starting to sound irritable. "Or does that fall under doctor-patient confidentiality?"

George smiled and chuckled softly, not taking Mike's attitude to heart.

"No, it doesn't, Detective Logan. Basically, Bobby's reaction stemmed from the fact that he sees the Centre as more than just a building. That place may have been destroyed, but the people who were responsible for his captivity are still free. He doesn't believe he'll be safe as long as they're still out there." George looked across at Jarod. "He took exception to you telling him that he'd be safe now, when he can't bring himself to believe that. Tell me, do _you_ believe it?"

Jarod sighed softly.

"While Bobby's here, yes. He's safe here. Beyond that? I don't know. I wish I could say yes..."

"But you can't."

"No," Jarod conceded.

"He gave names," George went on. "People that he's specifically afraid of. Raines..."

"No surprise," Charles muttered. George nodded.

"He also named someone called Lyle, and Sydney."

Jarod started a little in shock.

"He named Sydney? Are you sure?"

"I'm sure," George answered. "He's starkly afraid that all three of them will actively try to get him back. I couldn't tell him he was wrong about that. I don't know enough about this situation yet to be able to say anything like that. You all know more than I do. Is he wrong?"

All eyes turned to Jarod, who seemed to wilt under the attention.

"No," he said finally, grimly. "He's not wrong."

"I didn't think so," George murmured.

Jarod looked as though he wanted to say something more, but couldn't quite bring himself to, and George didn't push it with him. Instead, he made a mental note to catch up with Jarod at a later point, and talk with him indepth... if the man would allow it.

"Is he okay for now?" Deakins asked, and there was a hint of desperation in his voice.

"For now?" George said. "He's all right. He was able to accept that he trusts everyone here, and that he's safe at the moment. It's actually a pretty big step for him to come to that conclusion, and he did it with minimal prompting."

"You know his reputation for leading psychiatrists in circles, don't you?" Deakins asked wryly, and George chuckled.

"Yes, I know, but believe me when I say that he is not mentally strong enough right now to even consider employing those sorts of tactics. I'm hoping that by the time he is, he'll trust me enough not to want to do it."

"That's a slim hope, Doc," Mike retorted. "He doesn't trust shrinks. He never has."

George smiled knowingly.

"Maybe. We'll see."

* * *

Alex was surprised to get to Bobby's room, and find him not huddled in the corner, but standing at the sliding glass partition that led out onto the little patio area outside. He had one hand resting on the glass, as though he longed to go outside but didn't dare try.

"Bobby?"

She spoke from the doorway, not wanting to come up behind him and startle him. His head turned fractionally in acknowledgement of her presence, and she then ventured into the room and over to his side.

"It's a beautiful day outside," she said softly. "Not too cold... You know you just have to open these doors, and you could feel the breeze on your face?"

She watched as a single tear rolled down his cheek.

"I want to," he whispered. "But, I can't. I... I'm afraid."

"It's okay," she said, not surprised by his admission, and not disappointed, either. "Maybe another day. But at least you can see outside now."

"The only time I saw daylight was when Angelo helped me escape," he told her softly. "That was the only time. I was underground for so long... Alex, how long did they have me for?"

At that, Alex baulked. Bobby obviously had no clear idea of just how long he had been gone for. To him, it was just 'a long time'. She dreaded his reaction upon learning that he had been a prisoner for nearly nine months.

"Bobby, you don't need to know that," she told him, hoping he would accept her words. She should have known better.

"Please tell me, Alex," he begged her. "I need to know how long I was kept there for."

"Nine months," she answered softly. He answered that revelation with silence. Alex watched him worriedly, not quite sure what to expect from him.

"Funny," he whispered, his voice taking on a telltale tremor. "It f...felt a lot longer..."

The tears came in a sudden flood, and he sank to the floor where he stood, finally breaking down completely. Alex went down with him, putting her arms around him without hesitation and hugging him fiercely in silent comfort.

* * *

_tbc..._


	23. A Mother's Love

A/N: _The muse strikes again. The opening sequence of this chapter was supposed to be a heart-to-heart between Alex and the Captain. You can see for yourselves how that turned out.

* * *

_

Jimmy Deakins emerged out of the front doors of the large house, and into the early morning light. It was cold, but not intolerably so, and the weather was worth braving anyway for the vision that the sunrise offered.

He paused, watching in silent appreciation as the colour of the sky altered slowly with the rising sun. This was something he never saw in New York, and could never hope to see. His only regret was that Angie couldn't be there to watch it with him.

Damn, he missed his wife, he thought miserably. It had been less than two weeks since he'd seen her and the girls off to California, but it felt more like a couple of months, and though he knew right from the start that this was going to take time, he still couldn't help feeling slightly resentful at the forced separation from his family.

Not that he blamed anyone for it, and especially not Bobby. The only ones he held responsible were the bastards from the Centre. If not for them, they would have all still been in New York, and Bobby and Alex would still be working together as one of the best detective partnerships the NYPD had ever seen. As it was, he was seriously beginning to wonder whether Bobby would ever recover enough to reclaim his position within Major Case. Even knowing what they did about the Centre's hellish regime of experiments and simulations, he didn't think any of them had fully anticipated the level of trauma that Bobby was suffering. There had been moments over the last several days, and more than a few at that, when Deakins suspected Bobby was just one step away from a complete, crippling mental breakdown.

It had been a hell of a long week, he reflected grimly. George Huang's presence had certainly helped, in that Bobby no longer seemed to be on the edge. He no longer appeared to be contemplating suicide, to the relief of them all. Of course, they weren't taking any chances there, either, and it was an unspoken agreement amongst them that they had worked hard to ensure that Bobby was never left alone. Whether the constant supervision bothered him, Deakins didn't know. The truth was that Bobby seemed to be too lost in his own misery to even notice.

Memories were flooding back to him, more with every day that passed. They were both of the last nine months, and of the five years he'd spent in the Centre as a child. None of them were even remotely pleasant, and with every memory that came, Bobby's animosity towards Raines, Lyle and Sydney grew. To everyone's curiosity, though, he didn't display anywhere near the same degree of fear and hatred of Miss Parker. Instead, whenever her name was mentioned, a strange and wistful look appeared briefly in his eyes before the emotional barricades slammed down and they were all shut out from whatever was going on inside his mind.

It was a strange thing, Deakins mused, and he couldn't help but wonder whether Miss Parker was perhaps more like her mother than they all thought.

Even Jarod was baffled. Carolyn had suggested that Bobby might have been suffering from Stockholm Syndrome, but George Huang had dismissed that concern after just a couple of days. Bobby had no attachments, unhealthy or otherwise, to his captors. His greatest hang-ups were over the knowledge that they had all escaped before the Centre was destroyed, and he basically would not feel safe until they were dead.

A grim chuckle forced its way out of Deakins. If there was someone within their midst who was suffering Stockholm Syndrome, it was Jarod. Not Bobby. Deakins wasn't surprised by it, considering how long Jarod had been in the Centre, but he definitely had an attachment to Sydney that he was not willing to let go of and his discomfort at Bobby's hatred of Sydney was plain for all to see. To Jarod, Sydney was the father that Charles should have been during his formative years. To Bobby, Sydney was just another person who was responsible for the nightmare that his life had turned into. Bobby was not going to forgive Sydney any time soon, and Deakins hoped that Jarod would be able to accept that fact sooner, rather than later.

The sun was up now, offering a small degree of warmth against the chill of the morning air. Shivering a little, Deakins turned to head back inside, and that was when he noticed the small figure sitting on the swing seat, watching him in curious silence.

"Hi," Deakins said simply to the child by way of greeting. The boy offered him a half smile.

"Hi."

The captain paused, at a loss for what to say. He hadn't realised there were any children in the house, and he certainly hadn't seen this boy around. Margaret and Charles' son, maybe...?

"My name is James," the boy introduced himself, and Deakins couldn't keep from grinning.

"That's a good name. I'm Jimmy. Nice to meet you, James."

"It's not really my name," James said. "I mean... I was never given a name. I chose to be called James when the father... I mean, when Dad brought me here."

It suddenly struck Deakins that perhaps this child was yet another victim of the Centre.

"Were you rescued from the Centre?" he asked, sitting down on the swing beside the boy.

"Yes. Jarod and Dad rescued me."

"And Major Charles adopted you," Deakins guessed. The boy looked down.

"It's kind of complicated. I... I was born in the Centre. I don't really have a mom and a dad of my own."

Deakins was puzzled, but he sensed the boy's reticence, and didn't push for a further explanation. Silence fell, and Deakins was trying to decide what to say when James spoke without prompting.

"I understand why he feels the way he does."

For a brief moment, Deakins didn't understand, but then it suddenly occurred to him that James was talking about Bobby.

"How do you mean, James?"

James hesitated before replying.

"He's scared. I understand that. I was scared too, when Jarod rescued me. And when Dad brought me here, I didn't want to go outside for a long time, because I was afraid they'd find out where I was, and come for me. I don't blame him for being scared."

"I don't either, James," he murmured. "But I'm afraid, too."

James looked up at him curiously.

"What are you afraid of?"

"I'm afraid that Bobby will never recover from what they did to him," he admitted honestly. "I'm afraid that the man I knew is gone for good."

It was that fear which had been eating away at him since before they'd rescued Bobby. When he, Alex, Mike and Carolyn had left One Police Plaza that day, they had been riding high on adrenalin, and the hope that they were taking the first steps towards bringing Bobby home and back to where he belonged – with them and with the Major Case Squad. But seeing Bobby so broken left him wondering now if that hope had ever been more than just a naive fantasy.

God, he hoped not, but it still troubled him deeply to think it.

"I see you've met our James."

They both looked around to see Margaret standing there with a warm smile on her face as she observed the two of them. Deakins looked on with a smile of his own as James' face lit up, and he got up to go and hug her. She returned the embrace with a fierce, protective one of her own before urging him gently towards the door.

"Go on, now. Go get your breakfast, sweetheart. Your sister's in the kitchen. She'll get it for you."

Once he'd gone, she returned her attention to Deakins.

"Early riser, Captain?"

"Force of habit," he admitted with a wry smile. "And please, just call me Jimmy. I abandoned my rank when I walked out of my squadroom to go to Delaware and rescue Bobby."

She nodded amiably.

"All right, then. Tell me something, Jimmy. Is it true, that you were the one who helped Catherine Parker to get Bobby out of the Centre when he was a boy?"

There was nothing accusing in her tone, but he felt wary nonetheless, knowing as he did now that while Bobby had been rescued and returned to his family – fractured though it had been – Jarod had been left in the Centre for another twenty or more years. He grimaced a little at the thought, and reflected that it was no wonder Jarod had Stockholm Syndrome.

Margaret walked around, and sat down on the seat beside him.

"It's all right. I don't feel resentful that Bobby was rescued, and not Jarod. If Jarod had been rescued back then, he would have probably ended up with a completely new family. At least now, we are together finally. I'm just curious that you helped to rescue Bobby when he was a boy, and then he came to work under you as an adult."

"It's a strange coincidence," Deakins agreed. "When Bobby transferred to Major Case from Narcotics, I have to admit that he wasn't at all familiar to me... but now that I think about it, I just wonder whether he recognised me, at least on a subconscious level."

"Was it in the way he behaved towards you?" she guessed, and he nodded.

"Yes. I never really thought about it before, but something Alex said tipped me off. She said that Bobby mistrusted everyone in any position of authority over him."

"Except you?"

"Yes, except me. I didn't give it much thought at the time, but she was right. When Bobby applied for a transfer from Narcotics to Major Case, his former captain came to see me personally. He told me that if I accepted Bobby's application, I'd have a damned good cop working for me, but that I'd have to be willing to show a lot of patience, and work hard to earn his trust. He said that once I had that, I'd be home free with him, and that he'd do just about anything for me, but it wouldn't be easy to get to that point." Deakins paused, smiling faintly at the memory. "I nearly rejected Bobby's application on that alone. I didn't feel that I had the time to be pandering to a cop who had trust and authority issues. Especially someone with Bobby's reputation. I relented though, and decided to give him a chance, and it was the best decision I've ever made in my career. When Bobby started with the squad, I'd tried to prepare myself for anything... but he fell into step with me by the end of his second week. I'd give him an order, and he'd do it without hesitation. The only times he argued with me were when he genuinely believed the decision I'd made was detrimental to the case, and most of the time he'd turn out to be right.

"His Narcotics captain called me a month after Bobby transferred, and I think he didn't believe me when I told him everything was fine. But it was... and it never occurred to me that there might have been a significant reason behind Bobby's willingness to serve under me... Behind his willingness to trust me."

"Do you think that will have changed at all?" Margaret asked, aware of the way he stiffened at her question. "That he would trust you any less now?"

The expression on his face, and in his eyes became anguished, and his shoulders slumped visibly.

"Why should he trust me? I let him down in the worst possible way. I promised that I'd keep him safe, and I let him be taken instead!"

"And then you abandoned everything familiar to you to go and save him," Margaret reminded him gently. "He might not be capable of appreciating that right at the moment, Jimmy, but he will eventually. Sooner or later, he will. And then, I think you'll find his trust and faith in you will be stronger than ever."

He looked away without answering. As much as he wanted to believe that, he just couldn't bring himself to. There was a not so small part of him that was saying very firmly that Bobby would never be able to trust him again, and he couldn't stop himself from thinking that was the god-awful truth.

The heavy silence that followed was effectively shattered when the front door behind them all but exploded open, and Carolyn burst out, her tanned features filled with panic.

"Carolyn?" Deakins asked, fear clutching at his heart as he looked at her. "What's wrong?"

"It's Bobby," she said hoarsely. "He must have had a really bad nightmare, or something... He went into the bathroom... We thought just to use the toilet... but then there was this awful crash... and the mirror..."

"Barek, what happened?" Deakins demanded to know, putting an extra note of authority in his voice. Carolyn paused, drawing in a shuddering breath as she struggled to rein in her panic.

"Bobby smashed the mirror in his ensuite. He's cut himself up really badly, but he won't let anyone get near enough to help him. Not even Alex can get close to him!"

Panic swept down his body in icy cold waves at the frightening news. Launching himself to his feet, Deakins bolted inside, with Margaret and Carolyn close behind.

* * *

Mike was standing outside the bedroom when they got there, and his face was the colour of ash.

"Looks like a scene out of _Die Hard_ in there," he said hoarsely.

"Bobby...?" Deakins asked, and Mike nodded towards the bathroom.

"In there. We can't get him to move. He just gets hysterical when we try to get near him. This is a bad one, Captain. He's not even listening to Alex now."

Deakins crossed the floor to the bathroom and pushed past Jarod, George and Charles to see for himself what had happened. Alex and Emily were standing just inside the doorway to the ensuite, watching in helpless dismay.

The bathroom was a mess. The first thing that drew Deakins' attention was the bathroom mirror; or rather, what was left of it. The mirror had been smashed, and there were shards all over the floor, making negotiating a path to their distressed friend extremely difficult. Blood mingled in with the glass and it lead in a sickeningly thick trail across the floor to the far corner. That was where Bobby now sat, knees drawn up to his chest and arms wrapped around his body.

His forearms had been cut to shreds by the shattered pieces of the mirror, and so had his hands. Blood flowed freely from several deep-looking cuts. His feet were bare and bleeding and his pyjama pants had been shredded from walking, and then crawling over the dangerous shards.

He was in a mess, Deakins noted in dismay, but it didn't look like any of the damage done was deliberate. Yes, he'd hurt himself. He'd hurt himself badly... but it wasn't a suicide attempt. He confirmed that in his mind with a not so small feeling of relief. Bobby hadn't tried to kill himself. Whatever was going on in his mind right then, suicide was not what he'd been attempting.

He started forward, intending on going to Bobby, but was stopped short when Bobby gave a distressed cry and grabbed a shard of the mirror up off the floor.

"No!" he screamed, and his grip tightened on the shard to the point where it was cutting deeply into his hand. "Get away! Don't come near me! Stay away!"

Deakins backed off quickly, his heart pounding.

"We can't get near him without him threatening to hurt himself," Emily said softly, anxiously. "I don't know if he's not recognising us, or if it's something else entirely... I just don't know."

"If we can't get through to him," Charles said grimly, "then we may have no choice but to forcibly sedate him, and take him to a hospital."

None of them needed to be psychic to know that Charles was referring to a psychiatric hospital, and Deakins braced himself, expecting a violent protest from Alex at that suggestion. They were all startled when the anticipated explosion came not from Alex, but from Margaret.

"You will do no such thing!" she snapped, glaring at her husband in anger. Charles visibly cringed away from her, to the grim pleasure of those watching the developing scene. "He needs patience and understanding, Charles. He does not need to be drugged! Don't you think that would have happened enough over the last nine months? How could you even suggest it?"

Charles waved his hand towards Bobby, agitated.

"You think you can snap him out of it? Be my guest, Margaret. He's already had a piece of Jarod, when Jarod tried to get close to him. Look!"

She looked, and sure enough there was a thin but long slash on Jarod's right arm, just below the shoulder. Jarod looked awkward and embarrassed, quickly covering the wound with his hand.

"It's just a scratch. It's nothing."

Still frowning at her husband, Margaret pointed to the bedroom door.

"Everyone, out. Now." She paused, favouring Alex with an apologetic smile. "You too, dear."

When Alex hesitated, Margaret took her hand gently and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

"Please, Alex, trust him to me now. I'll bring him back to you, I promise."

Alex looked from Margaret to Bobby. He no longer appeared to be aware of anyone else's presence, and his attention was focused on his bleeding hands. He rocked back and forth just slightly, and she could just make out the soft, distressed whimpers that were issuing from his mouth.

"Go on," Margaret told her gently. "I promise you, I'll call you back in as soon as he's back in a reasonable state of mind."

Alex went, though with extreme reluctance. Margaret waited until they were all gone before turning her attention back to Bobby. For the next couple of minutes, she did nothing stand there and observe him in silence. She watched and she listened. Gradually, in the otherwise silent room, Margaret's sharp ears began to pick words out of the soft whimpers.

"_Robert... am... I am... name... is Robert..._"

Margaret allowed the softest of sighs to escape her lips as she realised what he was saying.

'I am Robert. My name is Robert.' He was saying it over and over again, as a kind of mantra, as though he was trying desperately to keep a hold on his identity.

Because that was the main thing that the Centre had tried to take from him, she realised. It had tried to take his very identity, to mould him into what they wanted him to be; into what Jarod had been for so long. A pretender, with no identity of his own.

So he needed to be reassured of his own identity? Of who he was? Who better to do that than a loving mother? Deciding on her strategy, she took a step towards him and spoke in a quiet, but stern voice. She knew she was taking a chance – for all her good intentions, she was _not_ his mother, and for all she knew he might end up reacting negatively. It was all she could think of, though, and all she knew, and for the sake of the man cowering before her, she had to take the chance.

"Robert Goren, look at the mess you've made! Is this any way for a police detective to behave?"

Though he didn't look up, Margaret thought that the whimpering did fade very minutely. Encouraged, she went on, taking care to address him by name as many times as possible.

"Robert, I want you to put down that piece of glass, right now. Do you hear me, Robert? You're going to seriously injure yourself, Robert. I want you to put it down immediately. Immediately, Robert!"

She didn't use endearments of any kind towards him. Now was not the time for coddling. Seconds ticked by, and when he seemed to ignore her, she spoke again and put more volume and emphasis on her words.

"Robert Goren, you pay attention and look at me when I'm talking to you!"

Slowly, very slowly, he raised his eyes to meet hers. The heartache and despair she saw reflected in his eyes just about gutted her, but she steeled herself to continue on as she'd started. She dared not approach him yet, not until he'd put down the shard, for there was no telling whether he might snap again and lash out at her.

"Put down the glass, Robert," she told him firmly. "Do as you're told."

He opened his hand slowly and the shard slid from his blood-slicked palm to the floor. Margaret nodded her approval, and finally allowed herself to smile at him. He'd done as she'd told him, and now she could feel free to praise him, and offer comfort.

"Good boy, Robert. That's very good, sweetheart."

His gaze started to drop again, and she spoke quickly to hold his attention.

"No, Robert. Look at me, not the floor. That's it. Now, Robert, I'm going to come over there to you, and you're going to stay calm and quiet."

It wasn't a request, and she had no intention of taking no for an answer. She saw the confusion in his eyes, and fancied that she could almost hear him say 'you're not my mother'. But he didn't, and when she made her way over to him, picking her way carefully across the floor, he stayed quiet and didn't lash out at her.

He was sitting jammed into the corner between the bathtub and toilet, and Margaret opted to sit carefully on the edge of the tub, where she could get a good look at the fresh injuries.

"Show me your arm," she murmured, encouraging him to lift up his right up for her to look at. "Good boy, Robert. Let me see it, sweetheart."

A quick glance, and Margaret swiftly came to the same conclusion that Deakins had reached not long before. Despite the damage done, there was no indication that it was a deliberate suicide attempt. All the wounds on Bobby's arm were indicative that he had smashed a mirror with his bare arms, perhaps in a fit of rage or despair. She couldn't see deliberately made cuts on either arm.

Reaching behind her, she picked up a washcloth from where it was draped over the faucet, and dampening it briefly, she gently rubbed it over his bloody right forearm.

"Now, Bobby," she said gently, reverting back to his preferred name now that he'd calmed down, "what was all that about? Talk to me, sweetheart."

To begin with, he didn't say anything, and the minutes dragged by slowly. Margaret was patient, though. She continued to clean his arms, carefully picking out small slivers of glass that remained in the wounds, and all the while waiting for him to gather his strength and sort out in his own confused mind what to say.

"Bad dream," he whispered finally, miserably. Margaret nodded sympathetically. She'd suspected as much.

"Tell me what it was about."

Again, not a request. Bobby shuddered a little.

"Don't... I can't..."

"Yes, you can," she encouraged him. "Talk to me, Bobby. Tell me what upset you so badly that you let yourself get all cut up like this."

Silence met her request, but she continued to wait with absolute patience. She was confident he would answer her, but he needed time.

"Lyle..." Bobby whispered finally, and Margaret felt her heart wrench in her chest. Lyle. She should have guessed that either he or Raines would be central to this particular trauma.

"Tell me about it," she murmured, running her fingertips lightly over his hair in a soothing gesture. "What did he do to you, baby?"

With another shudder, Bobby began to speak in a soft, stilted tone, recounting just a few of the horrors that Lyle had put him through.

* * *

_When the cleaners came for him early in the morning, his first reaction was one of panic. If it had been Sydney who wanted him, he would have come to get him personally. Only Raines sent cleaners to get him. He went though, without protest. Though he knew by now that they wouldn't shoot him – Miss Parker had made it abundantly clear to Raines what she'd do if she ever found bullet wounds on him – they were not adverse to beating him if he gave them a reason to. And as much as he hated cooperating with Raines, he hated the threat of regular beatings even more, and so he'd learnt to cooperate. It was clearly under duress, though, and he never did more than was absolutely necessary. _

_It was his only way of rebelling against the sadistic doctor, and he knew it was seriously starting to piss Raines off._

_He was just waiting for some kind of reprisal for his 'uncooperative attitude'. It hadn't come yet, but he'd suspected it wouldn't be far off. Now, he wondered if the time for that anticipated reprisal hadn't finally come._

_He wasn't sure whether to be relieved or disturbed when they led him to the sim room, and had him sit at the chair and table in the middle of the room. Raines' experiments and simulations rarely took place here. Most times he was herded down to one of the lowest sub-levels when Raines wanted him. So maybe, he thought with a small spark of hope, it was Sydney who wanted him after all._

_He was stunned when, after sitting obediently, all the cleaners bar one exited the room. Bobby knew the man who stayed only as Chris, and he was one of the few who had shown him any degree of kindness._

"_Listen, Bobby," Chris said in a soft, anxious voice, "whatever they ask you to do, you do it. You hear me? Don't argue, and do the best you can. You've gotta trust me on this. It'd be bad for you if you put up a fight this time. Really, really bad."_

_Bobby stared up at Chris, puzzled and disturbed. Chris was hinting at something that he didn't fully comprehend, and it was starting to scare him. Chris saw the burgeoning fear in his eyes, and nodded grimly._

"_That's good. You should be afraid. It's not Mr Raines, or Sydney who's coming for you this time. It's..."_

"_Thankyou, Chris. That will be all."_

_Bobby felt an icy chill race down his spine at the new voice, and he peered around Chris to see Mr Lyle coming towards him. Chris glanced back at Bobby, and though he didn't say anything more, the look in his eyes pleaded with Bobby to cooperate fully. Then he was gone, and Bobby was alone with Mr Lyle_...

* * *

Silence fell, and Bobby sat trembling with his head resting against Margaret's hip while she wrapped gauze pads and bandages around his arms and hands.

"What happened when Lyle arrived?" she asked finally when he gaze no indication of continuing. A stressed whimper escaped him, and she could almost feel him starting to slip away from her again. Reaching around, she touched her fingertips to his chin and gently tilted his face up so she could look in him the eyes. "Stay with me, Bobby. Talk to me. Tell me what happened?"

He dragged his gaze away from her, but her action had done the trick and, after a brief moment, he began to talk again.

* * *

"_Hi, Bobby."_

_Bobby said nothing in response, watching Lyle with open trepidation. He knew as well as anyone that Lyle was deceptive in his pleasantness. In reality, the man was like a poisonous snake – placid one moment, deadly the next. In some ways, he feared Lyle even more than Raines._

"_You're not going to say hello?" Lyle asked, sounding genuinely disappointed. "Well, I suppose I can understand that. We haven't exactly gotten off on the right foot, have we?"_

_Still, Bobby stayed silent, wondering with a growing feeling of fear and nausea just what Lyle wanted with him. _

"_You look scared," Lyle commented with a small smile, as though the very idea amused him. "Really, there's no reason to be scared. I just want to talk to you. That's all, I swear."_

"_What about?" Bobby asked, struggling to keep his voice even, and silently cursing himself when he couldn't. Lyle shrugged._

"_Anything. What would you like to talk about?"_

_At that, Bobby clamped his jaw shut. He'd learnt quickly – very quickly – that to ask the wrong questions or say the wrong thing would only result in a beating. He knew he risked being beaten for not cooperating with Raines, but damned if he was going to walk into it just for daring to speak._

_Lyle chuckled softly, and shook his head._

"_Relax, Bobby. No one's going to come in and beat you for being honest. You want to ask something? Go ahead and ask anything you want. I promise, it's okay."_

_Little though he trusted Lyle, Bobby decided he might as well test the waters._

"_What day is it?"_

"_Tuesday," Lyle replied calmly. "That's not all you wanted to know, is it?"_

_He didn't reply. The questions he really wanted answers to were questions that he knew without a doubt he would be beaten for asking. Lyle sat down on the edge of the desk, leaning in towards Bobby in a conversational manner._

"_Okay, I understand. You're scared to ask. I get that. Raines can be a little... sadistic when it comes to getting what he wants. I bet I can think of a few things you want to know, though. Let's see if I'm right. Firstly, your partner... Alex, wasn't it? She's doing fine. She misses you, but she's getting on with her life."_

_Bobby's breath caught in his throat. Part of him wanted to believe Lyle – believe that Alex wasn't dwelling on him and making herself miserable. But another part rejected his words entirely, whispering that she wouldn't give up on him. She would never give up on him._

"_Your mother is doing okay, too."_

_That got Bobby's attention, and he looked up sharply at Lyle, searching for any hint that the man was lying._

"_You really had a great captain," Lyle mused. "You know, he's been going to visit your mom every week?"_

_Bobby didn't know whether to feel relieved at the news that Deakins had kept his promise, or disturbed that the Centre appeared to be keeping tabs on everyone he cared about. _

"_What do you want?" he asked, fed up with Lyle's false niceties. Lyle regarded him with a thoughtfulness that Bobby found disconcerting. After a moment, he pulled a small notebook out of his pocket and set it down in front of Bobby, along with a pen._

"_I want you to write down who you are."_

_Bobby didn't move. It seemed a simple enough request, but he did not trust Lyle, not one bit. _

"_Who... I am?"_

"_Your name. I want you to write down your name. That's not such a hard thing, is it?"_

_Still wary of a hidden agenda, Bobby opened the notebook to the first page and wrote his name down in large letters. Lyle watched with interest, and picked the notebook up when Bobby was done._

"_Robert O Goren. What does the 'O' stand for?"_

"_Nothing," Bobby answered softly. "That's how it is on my birth certificate."_

"_Hmm," Lyle murmured. He then tore the page carefully from the notebook and held it up in one hand, and a cigarette lighter in the other._

"_This is who you are," he said, indicating the words on the page. "This is your name... Your identity." He flicked the lighter, and ignited the small flame. "And this is what all that means in here."_

_And then Lyle set fire to the page. _

_Bobby watched, sickened, as the page dropped to the floor and proceeded to burn to ash. He watched as his name became indistinguishable on the blackening paper, and finally disappeared altogether. It was a grimly symbolic, if appropriate, gesture._

_Lyle set the notebook down in front of Bobby once more._

"_Now, write 'I am nobody'."_

_Bobby didn't move. He couldn't. To do as Lyle demanded would effectively mean giving up, and surrendering to the Centre. He couldn't bring himself to do that, no matter what Lyle did to him._

_Getting up, Lyle walked around until he was standing behind Bobby. For over a minute, nothing happened. Then, with terrifying speed and force, Lyle slammed the palm of his hand against the back of Bobby's head, and forced him down, pinning him against the table top._

"_You belong to us, you stubborn son of a bitch. Your whole identity belongs to us. Do you get that? Your name is whatever we decide. We own you, for the rest of your miserable life. The sooner you get that through your head, the better off you'll be. Now..." Picking up the pen, he forced it back into Bobby's hand. "Write it!"_

_With his head pinned to the table, and Lyle's fingers cruelly exploiting all the most senstive pressure points, in the end Bobby had no choice but to comply. He scrawled it in a shaky hand, even as his vision started to go dark from the pressure on his skull, and with each letter he put down, he felt hope die within him._

_When he finally finished, only then did Lyle release his head. _

"_This is who you are now," Lyle told him. "Everytime you see yourself in a mirror, you remember this, and you tell yourself that." He prodded the page for emphasis. "You are nobody. You don't exist outside these walls. You are only who we want you to be. Do you understand me?"_

_Bobby sat in shaken and desparing silence as the reality of Lyle's words finally hit home. He wasn't going to be rescued. No one was coming for him. He **was** home, and it was time to act accordingly._

"_Well?" Lyle asked._

"_Yes," Bobby whispered._

"_Yes what?"_

"_I... I understand," Bobby answered. Lyle nodded in satisfaction._

"_Now tell me... and look me in the eye... Who are you?"_

_Bobby looked up at Lyle slowly, allowing the psychopath to see the despair and misery that had taken hold._

"_Nobody."_

_Lyle smiled cruelly._

"_Good. We finally understand each other. Maybe this is going to work out after all."_

_Bobby looked away from Lyle and shut his eyes. He'd just surrendered his identity... his very life to the Centre, and all of a sudden the future looked very, very bleak...

* * *

_

"Oh, baby boy," Margaret whispered, drawing Bobby to her as he dissolved into a flood of tears. "You are not nobody," she continued to whisper into his ear. "Your name is Robert, and you're a New York police detective. Don't let that man's wickedness steal that from you."

"I tried to fight them," he choked out. "I tried... but it just was too hard in the end."

"I understand," Margaret reassured him. "You had to survive, and if that meant cooperating with them, then that's how it had to be. You've got nothing to be ashamed of. But sweetheart, tell me... Why did you smash the mirror?"

Bobby shuddered violently against her.

"When I woke up from that nightmare... it was so real that I thought I was still back there... That Lyle had just..."

"Had just what?" Margaret asked, sensing he meant something more than the traumatic story he'd just shared with her. The barriers were back down, though, and she knew she would get no more out of him just then.

"I thought I was going to be sick," he went on shakily. "I came in here... but then I saw myself in the mirror... and I started to say it... just like Lyle had told me I had to. I started to say I am nobody... I... I couldn't deal with it... so I hit the mirror. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to break it..."

"It's all right," she told him. "Don't apologise. It's okay."

"I... I tried to clean it up... but I just kept cutting myself on the shards... In the end, all I could do was sit here. I was so scared... I'm so sick of being scared!"

Margaret hugged him to her.

"It's going to be okay, Bobby. Now, I want you to listen to me. Are you listening to me?"

He nodded mutely.

"All right, then. We're going to get up now, and go back into your bedroom. I'll call Emily back in... and Alex, too, if you want, and we'll get you cleaned up properly and dress those cuts. But I need you to cooperate with _me_ now. Will you do that, sweetheart?"

"Yes," Bobby whispered and, with Margaret's help, managed to get up off the floor. A pained whimper escaped him as he was forced to stand on cut and bloody feet, but Margaret dragged a thick towel from the rack and lay it down on the floor, to make a path from where they stood, to the bathroom door.

"Three steps now," she told him. "That's all. Here we go..."

They moved forward, stepping on the towel and crossing the floor back into the bedroom, where Margaret urged Bobby to sit down on his bed. Before she could go to summon Emily and Alex, though, Bobby reached out for her, drawing her back.

"What is it, sweetheart?" she asked, sitting down beside him and reaching up instinctively with a clean handkerchief to gently rub away the tears that still glistened on his cheeks.

"Thankyou," he whispered finally. "I... I always imagined this would be what Mom would have been like... if she hadn't gotten sick."

Margaret wrapped her arms around him, and drew him back to her for a warm hug.

"Oh, baby boy... I know I can't replace your mother, but I can promise that I'll do my best to look after you for her, until you can go home again."

"You think I'll ever be able to go home again?" he asked, and she couldn't miss the bitterness and disbelief in his voice. In answer, she pressed a gentle, loving kiss to his temple.

"You'll get to go home again, Bobby. My son promised, and he doesn't make promises that he can't keep."

Kissing him again, she rose up and went to get Emily and Alex. Bobby watched her go wistfully. He desperately wanted to believe that, but he knew in his own heart that it was going to be a long time before he would be able to bring himself to.

* * *

_tbc..._


	24. His Light

A/N: _I apologise for the shortness of this chapter, but I get the impression from the PMs I've been getting that folks would rather a shorter chapter than nothing at all. I'm afraid I just didn't have time for anything else. _

_This will be my last update before the new year, so happy Christmas, everyone._

* * *

Margaret was not surprised to find them in the hallway, waiting in silence that was thick with tension. When she emerged from the bedroom, several pairs of eyes turned toward her expectantly, and Alex stepped forward anxiously. Margaret offered her a warm, reassuring smile.

"Go ahead, Alex. He's in his bedroom now." To Emily, she said, "I've cleaned him up as much as I could, and covered the cuts on his arms, but his feet are in a fairly bad way. I got him from the bathroom to his bed, and I doubt he'll be able to stand up again. The poor baby is going to be bed-ridden while they heal."

Alex went, not waiting for any further explanation. Emily followed close behind, doctor's bag in hand.

"So what happened?" Mike asked. Margaret focused a firm look on her husband as she answered.

"He simply has too many awful memories to deal with all at once. It was not a deliberate attempt to harm himself." She looked to Deakins, her expression softening. "But you already knew that, didn't you, Jimmy?"

He nodded in confirmation, pleased that someone else had been observant enough to realise that as well.

"Yes. All the cuts were only incidental. None of them were deliberate."

Charles opened his mouth to speak, only to have Margaret cut him off sharply.

"Don't say it, Charles. We are not even contemplating sending him somewhere else."

He held up his hands defensively, not bothering to argue with her.

"I think we have all the devices here that we need in order to see Bobby through this," George spoke up. "All the support that he needs is here, with us."

"When we agreed to do this," Carolyn spoke up, "we agreed to be in it all the way. We can't just decide to quit on him now, just because it's turning out to be harder to help him than we all expected it to be. Forget about any sense of guilt that any of us might have. We're here because we're the only family Bobby has. He's our friend. We're in this for the long haul. We promised that. We're not breaking that promise now."

A murmur of agreement swept through the gathered group, and Mike impulsively reached out to give his partner a grateful hug.

"Nicely said," he murmured, and she answered with a weary smile.

"So what now?" Charles asked, accepting the decision without rancour.

"Now," Margaret stated before George had the chance to speak, "we leave Bobby in Alex's care for the time being, because he seems to respond to her better than anyone else, and what he needs right now is security and comfort, not psychiatric care." Her gaze went to George. "No offence meant, Doctor."

He smiled reassuringly.

"None taken and, for the record, I think you're right."

Margaret nodded appreciatively of his acknowledgement, and motioned back down the hallway with her hands.

"Let's all stop hovering out here like a pack of vultures, and I'll make a nice hot pot of tea. We can clean the bathroom up later, once Emily has seen to him, and Alex has gotten him settled down again."

They went, and only Deakins hesitated, standing indecisively in the hallway, and staring thoughtfully at the now-closed bedroom door. He still hadn't moved nearly a minute later when movement at his side alerted him that Mike had come back.

"You worried about Bobby and Alex being alone together?" Mike asked, and Deakins couldn't possibly miss the amusement in his tone. The captain raised an eyebrow.

"Should I be, Mike?"

Mike held his hands up defensively.

"Hey, you're asking the wrong guy. I'm not privy to what goes on in their lives outside of work."

Deakins couldn't resist a smirk as they walked away down the hallway together.

"So what do you call all those nights that you and Bobby spent together at bars and pool halls?"

Mike shrugged non-committally.

"Let me rephrase that. I've never followed them to see where they end up when Bobby and Alex go off together after hours, I've never asked and Bobby never told."

"So you're saying you don't know if they were..."

"Banging each other before all this happened?" Mike suggested when Deakins hesitated, and the captain rolled his eyes.

"Crude, Logan. But for want of a more discreet phrase, yes."

"Sorry, Captain. I don't know if they were or not. If they were, then they were damned careful to keep it below the radar."

"If you did know for sure, would you tell me?"

Mike smiled faintly.

"Out of respect to them? Probably not. Look at it this way, Captain. If they were, was it affecting their solve rate? How they worked together? Any aspect of their work?"

"No," Deakins conceded. "If anything, their partnership in the twelve months before Bobby's abduction was probably stronger than it had ever been."

"I'm just going to say this," Mike said, "and then I'll shut up and butt out. I've been a cop for a long time... and I've been a detective for over fifteen years now. I've had a lot of partnerships in my time, and if I'd ever had the chance to have a partnership like theirs, I'd have done just about anything to hang on to it. If this works out the way we're all hoping it will, and we can get Bobby back to where he was before, then if I were you, I'd be turning a blind eye to anything that might be going on with those two outside of work hours. Because the bottom line is, if Bobby can recover from this, and get back to work, then he's going to need Alex even more than he ever did before. And if there is something more between them, then so be it. Because if we get him back to New York, and back to the squad, only to have the brass split him up from Alex, then that really would kill him."

"I think that you're probably right," Deakins agreed soberly. "I hadn't really thought that far ahead, but you are right. When we do get home, I think I'll be working double-time to keep certain things from the brass."

"Maybe," Mike agreed. "But there's also another possibility."

"Oh?" Deakins asked wryly. "And what's that?"

"That they're not lovers. That they never have been. That what they are is just really close friends."

Deakins smiled at that. He didn't believe that any more than Mike did, but it gave him an out, and a very satisfactory one at that.

"Thanks, Mike," he said quietly, sincerely. "For that, and for being willing to be here. For being such a good friend to Bobby. He never had that many close friends to rely on before."

Mike shrugged.

"Neither did I. You know my history, Captain. I burned a hell of a lot bridges in my time. This is one bridge I have no intention of setting fire to."

Deakins chuckled and clapped him lightly on the shoulder.

"Don't worry, Mike. You've shown well and truly where your loyalties lie over the last nine months, and I guarantee you that it's not a one way street. If you ever find yourself in trouble, I promise you that I'll go to bat for you anytime."

The gratitude in Mike's eyes was plain to see.

"Thankyou, Captain."

"You're welcome, Mike."

* * *

Alex didn't hesitate when she and Emily walked into the room. Carefully closing the door behind them, she went over to the bed, and sat down beside him. He couldn't quite bring himself to look at her, and she didn't miss the way his face flushed red as she gently lifted his right arm to examine the damage, while Emily knelt down to look at his feet.

"Look at this," she murmured in dismay.

"I... I didn't... It wasn't on purpose," he mumbled in his own defense. Alex gently lowered his arm back down to his lap.

"I know it wasn't," she assured him. She then happened to look down to where Emily had gently lifted one bloodied foot for closer examination. "Oh, Bobby, your feet..."

A single glance told her that Margaret had been right; he wouldn't be walking for a few days at least.

"There are a few bits of glass still stuck in your feet," Emily murmured as she withdrew a long pair of tweezers from her bag. "They're not in deep, though. It shouldn't be hard to get them out. Just try and hold still as best as you can, okay?"

Alex drew Bobby's head to her shoulder when he sobbed in pain as Emily extracted the first shard from his right foot. She continued to hold him while Emily pulled several pieces of broken mirror from the soles of his feet, and murmured reassurances to him.

"There, that's it," Emily said finally as she got up again. "All done. I'll just get some warm water, and washcloths, and then I'll clean and bandage your feet."

She then left them alone.

After a long moment, Alex gently detached herself from him and stood up, intending to find something clean for him to change into. His pyjamas were badly torn and stained with blood, and needed to be gotten rid of. She was surprised, though, when he reached out for her tentatively with one thickly bandaged hand.

"What is it?" she asked, looking back at him worriedly.

"Please, don't leave me," he whispered, and she felt her heart break all over again at the anguish and misery in his voice. She had never imagined it was possible to hear so much grief and sadness in one person's voice.

"I'm not going to leave you, Bobby," she assured him, abandoning her original intentions and sitting down beside him on the bed. She slipped her arms around him as best as she was able and was encouraged that he didn't tense at the contact, leaning in and resting his head on her shoulder once more.

"I'm not going to leave you," she said again. "I was just going to get something for you to change into. Your pyjamas have blood on them, Bobby."

He went red as he glanced down and realised the truth in her words. When he tried to pull away from her, though, she wouldn't let him. After a brief moment of resistance, he finally relaxed in her arms, and his eyes slid closed. Alex sensed him relaxing against her, and placed a gentle kiss to the top of his head.

"It's okay," she murmured, her lips still pressed to his silver-grey curls. "You're safe, Bobby. We're never going to let them hurt you again. I promise you that, and you know I keep my promises."

Silence fell, and she felt something damp on her shoulder. Tears, she realised. He was crying again.

"What is it?" she asked, not entirely sure if he would even respond. "Talk to me, Bobby."

She was surprised when he did answer her, tremulous though his reply was.

"When... When I woke up and I was back in the Centre... I was so scared... My mind wanted to... to just shut down."

"I don't blame you for that," she murmured. "I would have been terrified."

"But... it wasn't being there that scared me the most," Bobby confessed. "It... It was the thought of not seeing you again. That... That almost killed me. I tried to remember your face... your voice... but after a while it started to get harder to remember. So... I started drawing pictures."

Alex watched him curiously. This was the second time he'd mentioned pictures that he'd drawn. In all honesty, she had never known he had any talent in that area, but if what he'd drawn was good enough to help him to remember her face...

"Just of me?" she wondered. "Or of others as well?"

"Of you... the Captain, and my mom... of Mike... I tried to draw a picture of Carolyn, but I couldn't remember what she looked like by then."

"How did you manage it?"

"Sydney gave me books to write in... to write down any ideas I had. He'd leave me alone in his office, and give me a couple of hours alone to brainstorm. I'd do the pictures then... and I'd fold them up and hide them on myself to sneak back to my room."

"What happened to those pictures?" she asked, but he gave a slight shake of his head.

"I don't know. I... I suppose they were destroyed. I never had a chance to do anything with them when they came for me, to move me down to SL26. I don't know what happened to them. But I wish I knew... Those pictures helped me keep my sanity in there. I hate thinking they were destroyed."

"What about your friend, Angelo?" she asked. "Maybe he saved them for you."

"I'm never going to see Angelo again," Bobby murmured in a resigned voice. "Wherever he is now, I just hope he's being taken care of... like I am."

His eyes flickered to her just briefly, and it warmed her to see the genuine gratitude there. Before she had a chance to respond to it, though, Emily returned with a bowl of warm water, cloths, towels and fresh bandages.

"Alex, could you help me?" she asked, and this time Bobby didn't object when Alex moved away from him.

"I... I'm not going to be able to walk," Bobby stammered as Emily set the bowl down right at his feet.

"No, Bobby, you won't be going anywhere on your own steam for a few days, at least," Emily confirmed, favouring him with a warm, sympathetic smile. "You really did manage to cut up your feet well and truly. On the bright side, it means breakfast in bed for the next few days." She paused as she began to lift up one foot, to place in the water. "This is going to sting a lot to start with, Bobby. I had to put a solution in the water to act as a disinfectant, because the last thing we need is for you to pick up an infection. Are you ready? I promise I'll be as quick as possible."

He shuddered noticeably.

"Do it."

She set his foot down in the warm water, and the response was almost immediate. A choked sob escaped him, and he looked away in pain and distress, but made no attempt to pull his foot out of the water.

"You take care of that foot, Alex," Emily told her softly, and Alex gently lifted Bobby's other foot into the water.

She felt the muscles in his leg stiffen from the pain, but again he didn't try to pull away. Offering him a reassuring smile that he didn't see for the pain he was in, Alex quickly set about washing his foot clean.

They were as fast as they could manage, but by the time they'd finished Bobby's face was wet with tears once more, and the water in the large bowl was bright red with his blood. While Alex gently patted his feet dry with a soft towel, Emily took out fresh padding and bandages.

Between the two of them, they soon had Bobby's feet securely bandaged and, with their help, he manoeuvred backwards until he was lying back on the big bed.

"Okay," Emily murmured as she collected the towels and her medical supplies. "I'll leave you guys alone now."

Once Emily had gone, Alex climbed back onto the bed, and lay down carefully beside Bobby, acutely aware of the new injuries he'd sustained. She settled in beside him, slipping one arm around his waist and resting her head lightly against his shoulder. She felt him sigh more than heard it, and was gratified that he didn't pull away from her. All the same, she was still aware of the tension in his body as they lay together on the bed.

"She... thinks we're... together..." Bobby whispered. She reached over to gently cup his cheek, smiling a little at his embarrassment.

"Newsflash, Bobby. Everyone thinks that. They have for a long time."

The shade of red that his face turned was truly adorable, she thought.

"E... Everyone?"

"Mmhm."

He answered that with silence, unable to look her in the eye all of a sudden, and Alex suppressed a sigh. They had Bobby back physically, but mentally and emotionally? In those terms, the reality was that Bobby seemed to have regressed back to the emotional maturity of a child, and mentally he was not much better off. All she could do, she reflected dismally as she hugged him to her, was to be patient and hope that George could help him.

* * *

_tbc..._


	25. A Way Forward

A/N: _My thanks to Lori for the idea she gave me regarding certain ideas for this chapter - specifically, the discovery of papers that prove to be very important to Bobby. Thanks Lori, I greatly appreciated our brainstorming. It hugely helped with the writing of this chapter._

* * *

George Huang went through Bobby's notebooks slowly, methodically and very thoroughly. Jarod had handed them over to him just the night before and, after the frightening incident that morning, George had decided it was time to immerse himself completely in the case.

He was perhaps halfway through the collection of notebooks, and was both surprised and impressed with many of the ideas that had been sketched out in them. If Bobby were to patent even just two or three of the ideas he'd outlined in the books, he would probably never have another financial worry again in his life.

But that was not what this was all about, he reflected. It was about searching for a way to help Bobby find a path through the misery, the fear and the pain that the Centre had projected onto him over nine horrific months.

It concerned him that there was much that Bobby was still refusing to talk about, and he was beginning to become suspicious of what he was hiding. Though Emily had claimed not to have found any indication of sexual interference on him, George still wondered. He saw it in the way that Bobby interacted with everyone, in the way that he flinched away from being touched, and in his ongoing inability to properly meet anyone's gazes.

No physical evidence might have been found, George thought grimly, but that didn't mean nothing like that had been done to him, and Bobby's behaviour was textbook rape victim's behaviour. If Bobby hadn't been raped at some point, or sexually assaulted at the very least, George would cheerfully eat his hat.

Alex, and Margaret now as well, were the only ones who seemed to be able to maintain contact with him. He seemed to tolerate phsyical contact with others, but that was all. The only times anyone other than Alex and Margaret could have any significant contact with him seemed to be whenever he was sleep, or too exhausted to notice.

George frowned a little as he set aside yet another notebook. He'd talked to Bobby every day since his arrival and, with the exception of just two times, Bobby had become severely distraught. Unable to break through to him, George had ended up having to summon Alex to calm him down. It always worked, but it also effectively ended the session, for once Alex was there, it was as though George didn't exist.

Once he had Alex back at his side, Bobby's world consisted of nothing else. George knew he needed to find a way into Bobby's mind, where they were able to connect, but so far he hadn't found it.

That was what he was hoping to find with the notebooks. He hoped he would find something that would allow him to connect with Bobby, and allow Bobby to trust him like he trusted Alex. Without that, they would continue to get nowhere fast.

Feeling weary, and more than a little frustrated, George stood up abruptly to go and get some fresh air. In the course of getting up, though, he bumped the remaining pile of notebooks, and sent then flying across the floor.

"Damn," he muttered, and bent to start picking them up, only to freeze as his gaze fell on a small sheaf of loose papers that had spilled out of one of the books.

Slowly, tentatively, George reached out and gathered up the pages. Sitting back down, he sorted through them slowly, his jaw agape with astonishment.

He was staring at a remarkably good picture of Jimmy Deakins, drawn in pencil. The picture had been drawn in such a way that George could see only a shade of the tough-ass cop that he knew the captain to be. Most prominently, George could see the gentle, more paternal side of the man in the drawing. He could see the father-figure that Bobby clearly saw in his captain.

He flipped to the next page, and found himself looking at a picture of Mike Logan. The details weren't as fine or as intimate as the picture of Deakins, but there was still a certain emotiveness about it. George got a sense of brotherhood from the picture, and he wondered just how much Bobby actually saw Mike as a brother as much as a colleague.

Certainly, it was easy to see how Bobby would have come to remember his colleagues with such familiarity. Trapped in a cold, friendless and terrifying environment, Bobby would have clung on to any happy memories that he could.

George bit his lip as he began to understand that what he was looking at was quite possibly a last ditch effort by Bobby to remember his life before his abduction. In that respect, these pictures were priceless, and it was a miracle that they hadn't been destroyed.

He turned to the next picture, and tears stung his eyes almost before he was aware of it.

It was a picture of Alex, and the details were almost life-like in their intricacies and intimacy. Great care had been taken with this picture, and it was almost photographic in its quality.

In it, Alex was looking ahead, smiling warmly. There was an energy about her in the picture that had been captured perfectly. Staring at it now, George didn't doubt that Bobby had gained strength and courage from it.

His heart in his throat, George went slowly through the rest of the pictures. There was one of someone who George suspected was probably Bobby's mother, an unfinished picture of Carolyn... There were two more pictures of Deakins in the pile, and one of a man that George didn't recognise, but the rest were all of Alex.

All together, there were nine pictures of Alex – all different, and all drawn with obvious care and love. After just a brief moment of indecision, George gathered up all the pages, and hurried from the room.

* * *

Alex bit back a sigh as she walked into the kitchen, carrying the bowls and plates from her and Bobby's lunch. She'd promised Bobby that she'd be right back, but upon entering the kitchen, she'd found herself confronted by Jarod's father, Charles. Although, perhaps confronted wasn't the right word, she conceded ruefully. It wasn't as though he'd been waiting for her.

Looking deliberately away from him, Alex took the dishes over and placed them carefully in the dishwasher. She was just closing the door when Charles spoke.

"You don't seem to like me very much, Detective Eames."

It took all of Alex's strength to maintain her calm.

"Whatever gave you that idea?"

To her irritation, Charles laughed.

"That attitude, right there. You remind me of my wife, Margaret. She won't take any crap, either."

Alex finally looked around at him, her jaw locked with tension.

"Did you want something?"

His amused smile was gone in an instant.

"I'd like to know why you seem so intent on disliking me. Need I remind you that I've opened up my home as a safe haven, not only to Bobby but to you, your captain and your colleagues as well?"

"We appreciate it," Alex said tightly.

"Forgive me, but you sure don't sound like you do."

Alex answered his words with silence. Charles frowned and was about to try again when Alex spoke in a strained voice.

"What was it that you said to Jarod in the van on the way here? _You can't save everyone. It may be that Bobby is one of those that you won't be able to save_. That's what you said."

Charles blanched visibly.

"You overheard that? Damn... I'm sorry. I didn't mean it the way it sounded."

"No? Because it sounded to me like you didn't even want to try. And then there was that bit about wanting to send Bobby to a psyche hospital..."

"Hang on, there," Charles said, holding up his hands defensively. "I never, at any point, said that I didn't want to help Bobby. I do want to help him... but you have to understand something."

Alex glowered at him.

"What do I have to understand?"

Charles hesitated, staring at her for several long seconds before motioning to the table.

"Come over here, Detective. Have a seat. I think we need to talk."

Alex looked as though she was going to argue, but changed her mind at the last moment and sat down with a thud.

Charles sat opposite her, watching her for a long moment before speaking quietly.

"Let me tell you a story, Detective. Years ago, probably before you ever knew there was anything wrong with this world, I was working actively against the Centre. I'd taken in rescued children previously, keeping them safe from the Centre until they could either be returned to their own families, or placed in the care of new families. Bobby was the last rescued child brought to me from the Centre, and I can say with certainty that I'd never seen a more traumatised child in my life. Bobby was with me for nearly twelve months..."

"Twelve?" Alex echoed, confused. "I thought it was only six...?"

"Closer to twelve," Charles corrected quietly. "I couldn't get a word out of him for the first four months. The only sounds he made during those first four months were when he woke up screaming every single night from the nightmares. It was bad... Worse than anything I'd ever seen. It took a long time, but I finally managed to get him to tell me some of the things that had been done to him... Let me tell you, Detective, you couldn't begin to imagine the horrors. It took nearly twelve months for me to be able to expunge the worst of those horrors from his mind, and to rehabilitate him. Those were twelve very, very hard months, Detective. I can hardly begin to describe how hard it was to bring that boy back from the brink... and now, history is repeating itself.

"When Jarod contacted me, and told me that Bobby had been retaken by the Centre, I knew it was going be difficult, but I didn't want to believe it was hopeless. I still don't... but what I want to believe is very different from the reality."

"I won't give up on him," Alex said fiercely. "I don't care how hard it is. I... I won't. I can't."

Charles reached across the table, and closed his hand gently over hers.

"And that's what counts, Detective. As long as you don't give up, I think he'll pull through this."

She looked at him bitterly.

"You're putting it all on me, then?"

Charles sighed softly.

"You don't understand, Detective. The point I'm trying to make is that it doesn't matter one bit to Bobby what I believe. But it _does_ matter to him what _you_ believe. As long as he knows he's got you to lean on, that's what really counts. You keep reminding him of that, Detective, and I think he'll eventually get through this. _That's_ what I believe."

Alex rubbed at her eyes, suddenly conscious of the wetness in and around them.

"He'll always have me. I won't leave him alone. I promised him that a long time ago, and I won't break that promise. Especially now."

He smiled and nodded in agreement.

"Good."

* * *

At the same time that Alex was having a heart-to-heart with Charles, Bobby was sitting on the edge of his bed in silence, staring miserably at his bandaged hands and feet. It had been some hours now since he'd had any painkillers, and the pain was starting to take hold once more, but that didn't bother him. He actually appreciated the pain as a way of keeping himself focused, and grounded. It gave him something tangible to hold on to when there was no one else around.

A little bit of pain was definitely a good thing, he reflected. Just a little bit, mind. He knew full well that it was only a matter of time before the pain became more than he could cope with, and then he would ask for something to help with it. But for now, he was okay.

No, it wasn't the pain that was getting to him. It was his complete and utter helplessness, brought on by the sudden loss of his ability to walk, or adequately use his hands. He felt his face flush at the memories from lunch only a short while ago, and again from what had happened just a couple of minutes before.

He and Alex had fallen asleep together, and were woken only when Margaret had brought lunch for them. It was a bowl of the most beautiful-smelling soup, and sandwiches cut into small, manageable portions. Except, with both hands now bandaged after being cruelly cut up, he couldn't manage any of it.

Alex, apparently unaware of his difficulty, had started on her own lunch with relish. Too embarrassed to interrupt her obvious enjoyment of the meal, he'd simply sat there in silence and watched her eat. It wasn't until his stomach growled audibly that Alex had realised he wasn't able to manage either the soup or the sandwiches.

Thoroughly embarrassed by her own obliviousness, Alex had promptly set aside her food and, ignoring his feeble protests, began to spoon the soup to his lips. She fed him with loving care, the same as she would have her nephew.

He both loved her and hated her for it. He loved her for her care and patience, but hated that those same loving actions compounded his feelings of shame and helpessness.

In the end, though, he said nothing to her, except for a soft word of thanks once he'd eaten his fill. She'd finished her own lunch, and then taken the bowls and plates back to the kitchen.

While she was gone, he'd decided to pay a visit to the bathroom. That had been another big mistake. He made it as far as the toilet, and had sat down with mixed feelings of relief and nausea. Relief to have made it, and that he was able to sit; nausea at the realisation that he would not be able to stand up and make it back to the bedroom again. He couldn't even keep his dignity as far as pulling up the sweat pants he was wearing. Sure, he'd managed to push them down okay, but there would be no pulling them back up again; not without help.

And so he'd sat there in humiliated silence, listening for Alex's return. She'd stripped him off, bathed him, helped him change clothes... and now this. It was just about more than he could bear.

To make it worse, as he sat there waiting, he caught sight of a shard of the mirror that had been missed when the bathroom was cleaned up while he'd slept. He'd found himself locked into staring at it, and at his image reflected on the cracked surface.

Cracked... That was him now. Broken... Irreparable. It gutted him to think it, but he just couldn't see his way back to where he had once been – a confident, independent police detective. Now, when he saw his reflection, all he could see was a broken man with no clear sense of his own identity. He didn't know who he was anymore, and that was what was killing him inside, more than anything else.

Then he'd heard a voice on the other side of the bathroom door, tentatively calling his name. It wasn't Alex, but Captain Deakins who was there. Bobby honestly didn't know whether to be relieved or embarrassed, but he told himself it was better than having Alex come in and have to help him, and forced himself to call out in a shaky voice and ask for help.

He'd not been able to look Deakins in the eye when the captain came in. He kept his eyes fixed very firmly on the floor as the captain slipped an arm around his waist and gently helped him to his feet, at the same time tugging the boxers and sweat pants back up over his hips. From there, Deakins had guided him carefully back to his bedroom, and onto the bed, where he'd sat silent and defeated.

There had been no admonishments from the captain, merely a concerned inquiry as to whether he was okay. The only reply Bobby had been able to give was a slight nod of his head. He couldn't bring himself to speak, or even look at his captain, and it was all he could do to hold back his tears.

Deakins had finally left him, after promising to find Alex and send her back to him as quickly as possible.

And that was where he was at now. Sitting silent, hopeless, helpless, as he waited for Alex to come back. His cheeks were wet with ill-suppressed tears, but he made no effort to wipe them away. The hurt inside him far outweighed the physical hurt, and he didn't know how to begin combatting it. Despite the best intentions of those around him, he could feel himself sinking slowly back into a deep depression, and once more he found his mind was starting to contemplate things that it shouldn't.

He didn't want to, but he was lost... drowning... and he didn't know how to save himself.

He heard footsteps in the doorway, but didn't bother looking up, expecting it would just be Alex. He realised with a sick feeling that he couldn't even bring himself to face her now, and he wondered dimly whether that was a sign that he truly was lost.

The owner of those footsteps entered the room slowly, coming over to the bedside. Nothing was said, and Bobby was about to gather himself to look up when he heard the soft rustling of paper, and a single page was placed on his lap, directly in his line of sight.

Bobby froze, his breath catching in his throat as he stared at the page in front of him. It was very familiar to him. It was a picture of Alex that he had drawn early in his captivity at the Centre. Specifically, it was the first picture he had drawn of her, the one picture that had triggered the desire and need deep within him to draw all the rest, all the pictures that had gone a long way to helping him cling to his sense of identity... and his sanity.

Slowly, disregarding the twinges of pain, Bobby lifted his hand and traced the sketched image on the page.

He vividly recalled drawing this picture, in particular. It had been perhaps the fifth or sixth time that Sydney had left him alone, to work in his notebook. The idea had come to him just the previous night as he lay in bed. Drawing was a talent that he had always kept to himself, not even telling Alex, and he'd wondered if he would possibly be able to get away with drawing a picture of her, where all other attempts to keep a solid grip on his sense of self had failed. He'd decided to try, regardless of what it cost him.

And so, when Sydney had left him to his own devices the very next day, he'd not wasted any time. Openining the notebook, he'd begun sketching, keeping at it until he'd produced a surprisingly good picture of his partner. Then, he had separated the page very carefully from the book, so that Sydney wouldn't notice a page was missing, and inquire about it.

He'd snuck the page back to his room with him, where he'd hidden it behind the grating that covered the air vent in the wall. For the next two weeks, he had taken to looking at the picture in secret, while at the same time a part of him waited in dread for discovery. It hadn't happened.

Buoyed by the realisation that no one seemed to know what he'd done, he'd drawn more pictures, until he had nearly a dozen hidden away in that vent. Those pictures had become the one thing he had to ground him, and it was the loss of those pictures when Raines had him moved that had seen him nearly lose his grip on reality altogether. To suddenly be handed one now was beyond incredible... and gave him a rush of emotion that was beyond description.

Finally, he made himself look up, curiosity overcoming his misery and his fears. He wanted to know who had pulled off the miracle of producing this picture, when he had been certain that it was lost. He was stunned to find himself looking up at George Huang.

"I take it that this _is_ yours?" George asked. Bobby looked back down at the picture, still barely able to believe it was back in his possession. He covered it protectively with one bandaged hand, as though afraid that it would be snatched away again.

"H... How...?"

"They were in the middle of a pile of notebooks that Jarod gave to me. You'll have to ask Jarod where... or who he got them from."

Bobby's breath caught in his throat as, even in his current fragile state of mind, George's words registered in his consciousness.

"They...?" he echoed. "Y... You have more?"

George smiled and nodded, bringing out the sheaf of pages for Bobby to see. Bobby stared at them in breathless astonishment.

"I thought you might be happy to see these again," George murmured. Tears stung Bobby's eyes.

"They kept me... grounded... safe. I'd look at them after s... sessions with Raines... or Lyle. I... I hid them behind the ventilation grate in my room."

George's attention was piqued by that. Until now, he'd assumed that Bobby's time had been divided between Raines and Sydney. It disturbed him to learn that Lyle might have had a considerable part in Bobby's torment, and yet a large part of him was not surprised by the revelation, either. From what he'd learned from both Bobby and Jarod, Lyle was a true sadist with no conscience. No, it didn't surprise him at all, and it also went some ways to confirming his fears over what Bobby was _not_ telling them.

Bobby went on, seemingly oblivious to George's reaction.

"I'd take them out to look at them... and looking at them helped me to remember."

"Remember what, Bobby?" George pressed when Bobby hesitated. Bobby stared sadly at the picture.

"Remember how things were before."

He didn't elaborate, and George didn't press for it. Producing the pictures seemed to have at least drawn Bobby partially out of his shell, and George was willing to take whatever he could get.

"They're important to you," George deduced.

"Yes," Bobby whispered. George sat down carefully next to him, and placed the rest of the pictures gently in Bobby's lap.

"These are yours, Bobby. You should have them."

As George watched, tears rolled slowly down his cheeks.

"I thought they were lost. I thought they would have been found and destroyed when Raines moved me to... to SL26."

"Someone must have kept them safe for you," George suggested. "Was there anyone in the Centre that you trusted? Anyone at all?"

"Angelo," Bobby murmured without hesitation. George regarded him with interest. It wasn't the first time that this Angelo person had been mentioned by Bobby, and George was just starting to understand how important to Bobby he had been.

He wondered how much more Bobby might be willing to talk about where Angelo was concerned, but he didn't want to risk pushing so hard that Bobby just shut down on him again. He was surprised, though, when Bobby began talking without being prompted.

"Angelo was my friend... my only friend. He helped me... when he could. We'd talk alot... until I was moved to SL26. I... I can't really describe it. If it hadn't been for Angelo, I don't think I would have survived two months in that place, let alone nine."

George knew that was not said lightly. For Bobby to credit his survival to anyone at all within the Centre itself, then their influence on him had to have been incredibly positive. He wanted to know more about this Angelo character, but he also knew better than to push the issue beyond what Bobby was prepared to discuss. Instead, he decided on a new tact.

"You don't have to hide these anymore, Bobby," George told him, and at the same time indicating the pictures. "No one will take them from you... or you from them. I promise you that."

"How can you?" Bobby asked, his tone plaintive. George watched him intently. It was all too easy to catch the distress and scepticism in his voice.

"How can I promise that? Is that what you're asking?"

"Yes."

"I can promise that because I believe that I know the lengths that Captain Deakins, Alex, Mike and Carolyn will go to in order to keep you safe. Tell me something, though, and be honest about it. Are you angry at any of them over being taken? Because they all seem to think you have a right to be."

George watched the emotions play over Bobby's face and, to his great interest, the primary emotion that he read there was confusion.

"But... it wasn't their fault..." he protested.

"Not even Captain Deakins?" George prodded lightly, curious to see what reaction he'd get. He knew well enough that Deakins was still blaming himself for Bobby being taken in the first place, and he was interested to see what Bobby's feelings were over it.

"No!" Bobby burst out abruptly, surprising George with the sudden energy in his voice, and in his pale face. "No, I'm not angry. It wasn't his fault. He... He tried to protect me, but he couldn't stop it from happening anymore than I could. I... I don't blame him. I don't blame anyone, except..."

"Except the people from the Centre?" George suggested when Bobby hesitated. He nodded, growing quiet once more.

"Yes."

"Name them, Bobby," George encouraged him. "Give them identities. Don't hide them away. Bring them out into the open, so that you'll eventually be able to let go."

Bobby shuddered violently. He knew George was right. If he was ever to find release from the fear that gripped him, he had to push those fears out into the open.

"Raines..." he whispered shakily. "L... Lyle... Sydney..."

"Isn't there one more?" George pressed gently. "What about Miss Parker?"

At the mention of her name, Bobby suddenly went very still and quiet. George continued to watch him intently, both fascinated and concerned by his reaction. After a few minutes of silence, George tried again.

"She was there when you were taken, wasn't she? Doesn't that make her equally responsible?"

"Yes," Bobby admitted with visible reluctance. "But... it's complicated."

"Not from my perspective," George said, hoping he wasn't pushing too hard. "From what I've been told, it was because of her that Captain Deakins was hit so hard on the head that it nearly killed him. Be honest, Bobby, and say what you're really thinking. Don't try to hide the fact that she hurt you."

"She... She didn't..."

"Didn't hurt you? Why do I find that hard to believe?"

"But... She _didn't_ hurt me," Bobby insisted. George nodded.

"Maybe she didn't hurt you in the same ways that Raines, Lyle and Sydney did," George conceded. "But I have to admit to wondering just what she _did_ do to you, Bobby."

And suddenly it clicked in Bobby's tired mind just what George was hinting at. He stared at the psychiatrist for a long moment before a ghostly smile touched his pale features.

"She didn't... didn't rape me... or sexually assault me... if that's what you mean."

George stared at Bobby piercingly.

"All right," he said finally. "I believe you. But I want you to answer me honestly. _Were_ you assaulted like that at all?"

"No," Bobby answered softly. "It... It nearly happened... but it was because of Miss Parker that it didn't."

George blinked, thrown right out by Bobby's words.

"Let me make sure I understand. You were saved from being sexually assaulted _by_ Miss Parker?"

He didn't really expect Bobby to elaborate, and so he was stunned when Bobby began talking about it freely, without having to be prompted.

"I don't know how long I'd been there for... I lost track of time after a while. They never gave me any way of measuring time while I was there. I... I never saw sunlight, or the moon... The only way I knew it was nighttime was because that was when I was locked back in my room.

"So, I don't know for sure how long it had been when Lyle came for me that day..."

* * *

_Bobby knew he was in trouble when Lyle came to get him personally, with no cleaners to back him up. No cleaners meant no witnesses, and no witnesses meant trouble for him. Big trouble._

_Lyle led him not to the sim room, but to a lavish office, where he bade him sit in one of the large chairs._

"_Relax, Bobby," Lyle told him wryly. "You're way too tense. Here..." He poured an unidentified amber fluid into a glass, and held it out to Bobby. "Have a drink, my friend."_

_Bobby refused, watching Lyle with ill-concealed hatred. Lyle shrugged, and downed the liquid himself._

"_Fine. Suit yourself."_

"_What do you want?" Bobby asked icily, his mind filled with bitter memories of his previous encounters with Lyle. The smile that appeared on Lyle's face was anything but pleasant._

"_I suppose saying that I just want to talk to you wouldn't really wash, would it?"_

_Bobby looked away. He didn't know what Lyle wanted. He didn't _want_ to know._

"_Fine, we'll just get straight to business. Mr Raines tells me you're not cooperating with him. That's a little disappointing, Bobby. We expected a little more from you by now."_

"_I won't do his simulations," Bobby said softly, but with determination. "They're... evil. He's evil."_

_A brief glance upwards revealed an amused smile on Lyle's face that left Bobby feeling disturbed, and more than a little afraid._

"_Evil. Interesting interpretation, coming from you. Well, let me clue you in to what's happening here. The powers that be are... well, they're a little upset that you're not doing what you're supposed to be doing, and they've asked me to have a chat with you, and try to convince you to cooperate."_

"_You're wasting your time," Bobby mumbled. Lyle, however, didn't appear perturbed at all._

"_Well, perhaps you should wait to see my methods before saying that I'm wasting my time."_

_Slowly, Bobby's head came up, and his gaze locked with Lyle's. In the space of an instant, he saw a world of madness in the other man's eyes. He saw it, and he was afraid._

_Lyle walked around, until he was standing behind Bobby. Then, even as Bobby was wondering just what Lyle was going to do, Lyle suddenly looped a piece of rope around Bobby's throat and pulled it tight._

_Bobby gagged painfully as Lyle wrenched his arms around behind his back and tied them tightly together with the loose end of the rope that was already looped around his throat. His head was forced back at a painful angle as Lyle tied off the rope, to ensure the length between Bobby's bound wrists and the loop around his neck was kept taut. Lyle then walked back around to the front, smirking cruelly._

"_Comfortable?"_

_Bobby couldn't have answered even if he'd wanted to. It was all he could do to keep his bound wrists in a position that didn't cause the rope around his neck to pull so tight that it choked him. As it was, he could already feel the blood pressure building in his face. Lyle chuckled softly in amusement._

"_And now that I have your undivided attention, I'm going to show you why cooperating is far better than the alternative."_

_Bobby could only watch Lyle in helpless silence as the psychopath began to unbutton his shirt. He shut his eyes as he felt Lyle's hand on the bare flesh of his chest and stomach, and a strangled whimper escaped him as he felt Lyle's hands on the waistband of his sweatpants._

"_This doesn't have to hurt, Bobby. It's only going to hurt if you fight me... and I don't want to hurt you. At least, not to leave any marks, that is."_

_Again, Bobby gagged as Lyle roughly yanked the sweatpants down to his knees, leaving him vulnerable and exposed._

"_Are you going to fight me, Bobby? Do I need to keep going?"_

_Tears worked their way slowly out of Bobby's eyes, and rolled down his cheeks. He couldn't get a word out, but then he didn't really need to. The raw hatred in his eyes spoke in volumes as he glared at Lyle. Lyle nodded, not seeming particularly disappointed._

"_Okay, then. But just remember, this is entirely your choice."_

_Bobby shut his eyes tightly, and a whimpering sob escaped him as fear crashed down on him in paralysing waves. Between the terror he was experiencing, and the pain caused by the rope that cut into his wrists, wrenched his shoulders back, and threatened to choke him, he honestly did not know how much more he could take. If Lyle went ahead with what he was threatening, Bobby didn't think he would survive it._

_Before Lyle had the chance to lay his hands on him, though, a new voice spoke from the doorway, filled with rage._

"_What the** hell**_ _do you think you're doing?"_

_Lyle stood up slowly, a dangerous look on his face._

"_This is none of your concern, Parker. Turn around, and walk out. Now."_

_She ignored him, though, and walked around to see for herself what her psychopathic brother was doing to Bobby. Her expression turned positively deadly as she looked back at Lyle._

"_You sick son of a bitch. Who gave you the go-ahead to do this to him? It was Raines, wasn't it?"_

"_I told you, Parker, this is none of your concern."_

"_I'm making it my concern," she snarled. "Now, get out, before I decided to do the world in general a favour, and shoot you."_

_Lyle couldn't resist a smirk. _

"_You already did that once, remember?"_

_An instant later, the smirk was wiped clean off his face when Miss Parker pulled out her gun and, in one fluid movement, aimed it directly at Lyle's head._

"_Next time, I won't make the mistake of shooting you in the chest. The next one will be right between your eyes. Now, get out."_

_Lyle stared at her for a long moment, and then leaned in close to Bobby, whispering harshly into his ear._

"_You'd better wise up fast, Bobby. You caught a break this time, but if you don't start co-operating with Raines, we'll be having another little... chat, and I guarantee you that next time, we won't be interrupted."_

"_Lyle, don't make me tell you again," Parker growled, and she released the safety catch on her gun for emphasis. Lyle may have been crazy, but he wasn't stupid. Lifting his hands in defeat, he circled around to the door of the office._

"_Fine. He's all yours, sis."_

_And then, he was gone._

_Cursing softly, Parker quickly untied the ropes, releasing both his hands and his throat. He gagged and coughed, struggling against a powerful desire to throw up while Miss Parker gently looked him over for any injuries that may have been inflicted by Lyle. As near as she could tell, the only injuries were from the rope that had bound his wrists, and been around his throat. There were no other visible injuries, but she had no doubt that it wouldn't have stayed that way for long._

"_That sadistic bastard... Bobby, I'm sorry about this."_

_He didn't answer her, and she didn't know whether that was because of the rope Lyle had put around his throat, or because of his humiliation for the state he was in. Sighing a little, she gently urged him forward in the chair, and from there up to his feet. She tugged his sweatpants back up to allow him to retain some small shred of dignity._

"_C'mon," she murmured, urging him toward the door. "I'm taking you to the hospital wing." She glanced up to see the fear in his eyes, and spoke gently to reassure him. "Lyle won't dare touch you again. I'll kill him myself if he tries, I promise you..."

* * *

_

George listened in breathless silence as Bobby finished telling the story in a soft, trembling voice. He was grateful to learn that his suspicions of sexual assault and rape were wrong, but he couldn't conceal his astonishment that the woman who had had a large part in capturing Bobby and returning him to the Centre had also apparently taken it on herself to try and protect him.

"Okay," he said finally. "I can understand that you'd feel grateful to her for stopping Lyle..."

"It wasn't just that," Bobby said softly. "She... She did other things for me. Whenever Raines let his men beat me, she'd come and help me... She forced them to release me out of isolation twice."

"Do you feel that you owe her?" George asked softly.

"No," Bobby answered. His voice was still soft, but there was a surety in his tone that couldn't be ignored. "I don't owe her anything. But... she didn't hurt me. Not... Not while I was actually in the Centre. I think... she might have helped me to get out, if it had been possible."

"You really do believe that, don't you?" George asked. Bobby was silent for a long moment before speaking again.

"I don't remember much about the night they rescued me. Just... Just images... noises... feelings. But I do remember Miss Parker. She... She was there when they brought me out of that little room... She was there to help. I am grateful to her... because she helped me to survive in there. She kept me from giving up."

George laid a hand gently on Bobby's shoulder as the detective looked away, fresh tears in his eyes and on his cheeks.

"I understand, Bobby. There's something I'd like you to do, when your hands have healed up enough for you to do it."

"What's that?" Bobby asked shakily.

"I want you to draw a picture of Miss Parker."

Bobby looked up at him, puzzled.

"You... want me to..."

"Draw a picture of her," George repeated. "You've told me what she did for you. Now, I want you to show me how _you_ remember her. From your memories, and your perspective. No one else's. Can you do that?"

Bobby fell silent, considering George's request for a couple of minutes before nodding once in wordless acquiescence. Yes, he could do that.

* * *

_tbc..._


	26. Finding His Own Path

_A/N: I blame certain aspects of this chapter on the migraine I had when I was writing it. This is unusually sappy for me. Enjoy it while it lasts, because I guarantee there is more misery and suffering on the way for Bobby before this is over. Especially since my good friend bammi1 gave me a brilliant idea for the conclusion. (insert evil laughter)_

_

* * *

_

_A couple of weeks later_

Once his hands had healed enough for the bandages to come off, Bobby took to George's request with an enthusiasm that both surprised and encouraged his friends and carers. Drawing swiftly became his focus, and though his communication levels seemed to drop, it didn't seem so much to be concerned about when he appeared so focused. He worked on the picture not in secret, but in private. Everyone knew what he was doing, but he was particularly careful about letting anyone see the picture before time. Even George had yet to see it. Whenever someone happened upon him while he was sketching, he would discreetly cover until he was alone once more.

It was slow going for him, because his hands and arms clearly were still hurting him, but the determination he displayed in wanting to complete the task was comforting to them all. It seemed, finally, that Bobby had a purpose again. George had presented him with an attainable goal, and the change in his was encouraging. It told all of them that there was still hope, and not to give up.

Alex stood just beyond the doorway of the family room, watching as he sat with a sketch book balanced on his knees. He was starting to move more freely around the house now. Just that morning, he'd gotten himself up, dressed, and into the kitchen for breakfast. After breakfast, while everyone else was still eating, he'd moved on to the family room to continue working on his pictures.

It was a big change when, to begin with, he'd been unable to move anywhere without someone to go with him. He still hadn't ventured outside the house, though. Frequently she'd seen him standing at a window, or on the threshhold of a doorway, looking out with a longing that was almost painful to watch. But fear still reigned in him, and he could not bring himself to go outside, no matter how much encouragement and reassurance they all gave to him.

They had to continue to be patient, George told them. He was making progress, without a doubt, but there was still a long road ahead.

Alex noticed, as she watched him, that there were two or three pages of the sketchbook that were turned over. It quickly became apparent that he was drawing more than one picture, but he was yet to show them to anyone – even her.

She didn't take offence to that, regardless of how much she wanted to see. This was something that was important to Bobby, and she didn't want to spoil that by pushing in on him. If it was helping him... and it certainly seemed to be... then she wasn't going to object.

She watched as he paused, as though sensing someone else's presence, and his head turned towards her. She smiled warmly at him, but made no effort to move into the room to join him. If he didn't want company, he would signal that by returning to his sketchings. To her surprise, he didn't.

"You can come in," he told her softly. "I... I don't mind."

Encouraged, Alex ventured into the room.

"I didn't want to intrude."

"You're not."

There was something in his expression that she didn't quite understand, and decided not to try. She was simply grateful that he seemed to want her company.

Alex noted with interest, as she walked over to join him on the sofa, that this time he made no effort to hide the sketch that he was working on, and as she came level with him, she finally got a look at what he'd put so much effort into over the last few days.

She faltered as she drew level with his shoulder, and had to make a conscious effort not to gasp aloud.

The sketch sitting in front of them on the small coffee table was of the man that she recognised as Lyle, one of Bobby's two worst tormentors in the Centre. It wasn't simply a plain sketch, though. The pencil markings on the paper were hard, giving the picture a dark and rough edge – a marked contrast to the soft tones he'd used in creating the pictures of Alex, Deakins, and the others.

The emotions that Bobby had put into the sketch virtually radiated off the paper. Hatred, loathing... but most of all, sheer terror. In the picture, Alex could easily see past the 'baby-faced, boy-next-door' facade, and see the monster that lurked beneath. This was how Bobby saw Lyle – as a true monster; an demon in an angel's guise. Evil personified.

She came back to reality to realise that Bobby was watching her quietly with a piercing gaze that she had long missed. It didn't remain; as she watched, the barriers slid back into place once more, shielding his thoughts from her.

"Can I see what else you've done?" she asked softly, not expecting him to concede. Her surprise was palpable when he picked up the sketch book and carefully turned one page over to reveal a picture of Raines that was similar in tone and feeling to the one of Lyle. Alex shuddered. She didn't fault Bobby for his horrific nightmares, or the humiliating physical reactions that he continued to suffer as a result of those nightmares. Being confronted with an evil face like that every day for nine months would give her nightmares as well. And still, she knew that Bobby hadn't yet confided the worst of what had happened to him during those nightmare months.

He turned the page again, and this time she found herself looking at a picture of a man that she had never actually seen with her own eyes, but knew instantly who he was.

Bobby's picture of Sydney was different to those of Raines and Lyle. It was not so much in the level of cruelty and evil she saw in it, because that was the same in this picture as in the other two. With this picture, there was a much more subtle evil exposed in Sydney's features, masked by a facade of kindness and pleasantness. Where the evil of Raines and Lyle was blatantly clear through Bobby's drawings, the picture of Sydney showed a much more subtle level of evil, as defined within Bobby's own heart and mind.

The cruel deceptiveness that radiated from the sketch gave Alex a chill down her spine. This was a man that Bobby had initially trusted, and who had betrayed him in the worst ways. Alex knew in an instant as she looked at the picture that Bobby would never forgive Sydney for his betrayal.

He turned the page once more, and Alex felt her heart clench almost painfully in her chest.

Here was a picture of a woman that Alex had only seen in person once, but it was someone she had an instinctive and powerful hatred for purely on the basis of the woman's participation in Bobby's abduction. She would have fully expected Bobby to share that hatred, but the picture he was showing her reflected no hatred, no anger and no fear.

Gone were the harsh, hard strokes of the pencil that had defined the portraits of Sydney, Lyle and Raines. Instead, the sketching he'd done was gentle, and showed a great deal of care. He'd gone to a lot of trouble to get this picture just right, and it showed in every line.

Alex leaned in a little closer, her eyes taking in the details with a growing sense of wonder. She took in the long, dark hair that fell around slim shoulders like a soft aura. She stared at the full mouth that was turned upwards in the slightest of smiles, and the high cheekbones that were shaded very lightly to depict faint colour. Most of all, she found herself drawn to looking at the eyes – eyes that were gentle and filled with an under-stated kindness and grace.

She knew, in a moment, that Bobby had seen a completely different side to this woman whilst he'd been in the Centre. He bore no anger towards her, as he did the other three, and she could only wonder why.

"She helped me," Bobby said softly, drawing Alex's attention back to himself. She looked around at him as he set the book back down on the coffee table.

"In what way?"

It took all of Alex's strength to keep her tone free of accusations and anger. Bobby was trusting her now to listen, and actually hear him out. She dared not betray that trust.

"She tried to protect me from Raines... and she protected me from Lyle," Bobby admitted softly. "She... She would have gotten me out of there, if she could have."

_Then why didn't she_... Alex thought bitterly, but it was a thought she kept carefully to herself.

"It would have gotten her killed, though," Bobby murmured. "If... if she had helped to get me out... and that had happened to her... I wouldn't have been able to live with it."

And Alex didn't doubt that. Bobby would never have been able to accept it if someone else had sacrificed themselves for him.

"She never asked me for anything," Bobby went on, and Alex became painfully aware of the tears that were rolling down his cheeks. "I never had to do anything for her. She didn't even ask me to trust her... but she risked a lot by coming to see me... to talk to me... and help me whenever Raines' men beat me."

"Oh, Bobby..." Alex whispered. She slipped her arms around him, and drew his head down to her shoulder in a comforting embrace. It took her a moment to realise he was speaking again, his voice just slightly muffled by her sweater.

"And... I... I think maybe she s... saved my life once, too... J... Just before Raines moved me to SL26..."

* * *

_Bobby had no idea what time it was when the door of his room was unlocked, and cleaners dragged him unceremoniously from his bed. Frightened, he'd put up a struggle, but he was no match for the cleaners. They grabbed him by the arms, holding him with grips that were sure to leave bruises, and dragged him mercilessly from the room. _

_They dragged him along, and he soon found himself in another wing entirely, in an area of the Centre that he didn't recognise. He was hauled into a cold, sterile room and, once inside, he was lifted up onto a cold, steel table and his wrists and ankles locked into manacles. A strap was pulled tight around his neck, preventing him from lifting his head, and he felt clamps pressing against his ears to prevent him from moving his head at all._

_Raines appeared at his side, syringe in hand. _

"_Just relax, Bobby," Raines said tonelessly. "This will hardly hurt at all, if you just stay calm. And once it's over, you'll be much more willing to cooperate with me."_

_Bobby opened his mouth to protest, only to gag as a thick wad of material was shoved into his mouth to silence him. He cringed as Raines injected the syringe into the side of his neck, and then stepped away. Bobby heard the metallic sound of implements being moved around on a tray, or a table. His mind flashed back to terrifying childhood memories of being operated on whilst still conscious, and his body locked into rigour from terror and anticipated pain._

_Raines reappeared beside him, scalpel in hand._

"_Just relax. This won't take long."_

_He felt the cold blade of the scalpel against his temple, and whimpered helplessly in pain as it sliced into his flesh and created a long incision. Raines set aside the scalpel, and was just reaching for a new implement, when a new voice, unexpected but very welcome, spoke in a furious tone._

"_Get the hell away from him, you sadistic bastard."_

_He heard Raines hiss angrily._

"_What do you think you're doing here?"_

_Miss Parker walked over, coming within Bobby's limited line of sight, and he caught sight of the gun in her hand that was aimed directly at Raines. Close behind her was Chris, the cleaner that Bobby recognised as being exclusively loyal to Miss Parker._

"_Stopping you, you evil little troll. Now, I'll say it once more. Get away from him."_

"_You have no business here, Miss Parker," Raines snarled. "He's mine..."_

"_He's not a piece of property, you son of a bitch," Parker snapped. "Let him up before I give in to this powerful urge that I have to shoot you."_

_Raines was unwilling to give up so easily, though, and tried once more._

"_This is for his own good..."_

_The sound of her gun firing shattered the otherwise still atmosphere. Raines stood frozen. The bullet had just barely missed his oxygen tank, and he had no doubt that missing had been no accident. She was all ready to take a second shot, and he knew she wouldn't miss again._

"_Let. Him. Go."_

_There was no mistake in her intent and, with resentful acquiescence, Raines motioned for his men to release Bobby. While she kept her gun trained on Raines, Chris moved forward and gently helped Bobby up off the table. He put one arm around Bobby's waist, while he used the other to press a handkerchief to the bleeding incision. _

"_C'mon, Bobby," Chris murmured, guiding him towards the door. "We'll get you upstairs to the hospital wing."_

_Miss Parker followed, not lowering allowing her gaze to leave Raines' face until she was out the door_...

* * *

"She got you out of there?" Alex asked softly, hugging Bobby fiercely as he shuddered violently against her.

"I... I don't know what Raines was going to d... do to me. But... Miss Parker... She s... stopped him. She s... stopped Lyle, too. If it hadn't been for... for her... I might have been d... dead."

As much as Alex doubted that truth in her own mind, she could see the sincerity of Bobby's belief in his own words. More than that, though, she now understood why Bobby's attitude differed so much when it came to the Parker woman. Regardless of her motivations, she had still been there for Bobby and protected him when there was no one else to do so. For that alone, Alex was grudgingly grateful.

Impulsively, she leaned up and kissed him lightly, first on the chin, then the cheek and finally on the mouth. He drew back a little, startled out of his memories by her actions.

"Wh... What was that for?"

Alex reached up to brush her fingers very gently over the scarred-over wounds that peppered his temples.

"Because I wish I could just kiss away all the bad dreams, just like my mom did for me when I was little. I wish I could just hold your hand, and that it'd be enough for you to know that you don't have to be afraid anymore."

Tears shimmered in his eyes.

"I... I can't help that. I _am_ afraid... and I can't just click my heels three times, say there's no place like home and wake up to find it was all just a dream. I... I wish I could... but I can't. And I can't stop myself being afraid."

"I know," Alex murmured. "I understand, Bobby. Just... Remember that I'm here, okay? Remember that I love you, and I won't leave you. Not again."

Bobby mouth went dry at her admission. At no stage had she ever said those three words to him and, for a fleeting moment, he wondered if she was saying it purely out of sympathy for him. But despite everything he'd been through, and everything that had been done to him, he could not turn off that part of him that was a born profiler. He searched her eyes, and her face, for any hint of insincerity, and could find none.

She was telling him the plain truth, and it just about killed him that he could not make himself reciprocrate. He wanted to. He wanted to wrap his arms around her, tell her that he loved her too, and never let her go... but he couldn't make himself move, and he hated himself for it.

Sensing his inner turmoil, Alex pressed another gentle kiss to his lips, and then drew his head back down to her shoulder. He didn't resist, and she smiled sadly at the soft sigh of relief that escaped him.

"It's okay," she whispered, suddenly fighting the tears that threatened in her own eyes. "You've got all the time in the world, Bobby. I promise you, you have all the time in the world."

* * *

Just out of their line of sight, in the shadow of the doorway, two figures stood watching the unfolding scene, each with a different reaction.

"Wow," Carolyn whispered as they watched Alex kiss Bobby again, before cradling him once more in her arms. "I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes. I mean, I always knew how much she cared about him, but I never imagined..."

Behind her, Mike regarded her in bemusement.

"Never imagined what, Carolyn?"

"Well... Didn't you just see that? Mike, Captain Deakins is going to have a fit when he finds out."

The amused look twisted into a wry grin and, before Carolyn could say or do a thing, he leaned down and planted a kiss squarely on her lips. When he broke it off finally, she was left looking just as dazed as she felt.

"Carolyn, honey, I didn't see a blessed thing. Neither did you. And I'm telling you right now that if Captain Deakins was standing right here, he'd be telling you exactly the same thing."

"But..."

He silenced her again with another kiss, this time gentle and lingering.

"Not a thing," he murmured as their lips parted. Carolyn swallowed hard as any thoughts or worries that had been in her mind fled.

"Not a thing," she echoed. Mike's grin widened.

"Attagirl. C'mon..." He slipped an arm around her waist and drew her in close to him, guiding her towards the door. "Let's go for a nice, long walk."

* * *

Alex heard the murmur of voices just outside the room, and glanced over just in time to see Mike and Carolyn walk past. Neither's attention appeared to be directed at herself and Bobby – not that she would have cared if it had been. interested her, though, to realise that Mike's arm was very firmly wrapped around Carolyn's waist.

_Now when did that happen?_ she wondered in mild amusement. No matter. Her primary focus was sitting with her on the sofa, cuddled in against her like a child desperately in need of comfort.

Not caring who saw, or what they thought, Alex slipped her slender arms as far around his emaciated body as they would go – even half-starved, he was still big enough that she could barely get her arms all the way around him. Then, settling down with him on the sofa, she continued to cradle him to her as sleep first took him, and then her.

* * *

"I want to go home."

The words came out almost petulantly, and George had a hard time not smiling as he instinctively imagined one of the children he frequently counselled sitting across from him rather than a forty-four year old man. He raised his eyes slowly from the sketch book that he'd been looking through, regarding Bobby with carefully veiled interest. In all the talks that he'd had so far with Bobby – he refused to call them sessions – this was the first time that Bobby had verbally expressed a desire to go home. Whenever the subject had arisen, the expression on Bobby's face had been one of yearning, but he'd also gone very quiet and refused to be drawn on it. George hadn't pushed for a response. He'd believed that Bobby would talk about his prospects of returning home when he was good and ready, and it seemed he was ready now.

It was a positive sign for Bobby's rehabilitation, but George still approached the subject with caution. Being ready to talk about it was only the first step of many and he didn't want Bobby rushing forward, only to fall again. He valued the progress that Bobby had made too much to risk it.

Setting the sketch book down, George spoke quietly to him.

"Do you feel ready to go home?"

Bobby stared at the floor. That was a loaded question, without a doubt, and it was not one that Bobby was sure he could answer to George's satisfaction. Yes, he desperately wanted to go home. He wanted to see New York again... He wanted to be once more enconsed within the comfort and safety of his own home... But a stark fear gripped his heart at the same time at the thought of it, and at the thought of being back in a place that he had once thought to be a haven, only to be proven so dramatically wrong.

"I don't know," he answered finally. George hesitated, watching him thoughtfully, and then tried again with a different question.

"Why do you want to go home, Bobby?"

At that, Bobby gave George an incredulous look.

"I thought you promised you'd never ask me any dumb questions."

A smile quirked George's lips.

"I said I'd never ask without reason," he corrected. "Humour me for a moment, Bobby."

Bobby sighed wearily. He simply didn't have it in him to argue with the psuchiatrist, and though a big part of him resented George for using that so willingly against him, another smaller part whispered that ultimately, it was only for his own good. He knew it, and reluctantly accepted it.

"Okay. I... I want to go home because..." He trailed off, and then grimaced. "I feel like I'm trying to think of an answer for one of those stupid competitions... You know, say why in twenty-five words or less."

George smiled in amusement, but didn't interrupt. He sat back, and waited patiently for Bobby to overcome his discomfort, and sort out his own thoughts.

"I miss New York," Bobby said finally, awkwardly. George nodded encouragingly.

"Go on."

Annoyance flickered in Bobby's eyes, but he didn't argue.

"I... I want to see my mom... and I want to be back home, in my own place. I want to see my friends again..."

"Is that all?" George pressed when Bobby fell silent.

"I want to... to be able to work again," Bobby admitted. "I miss my job... I want my life to be back to the way it was before all this happened. B... Before I was abducted. I... I want my life back!"

As he spoke, Bobby's voice rose in volume, until he was one step shy of shouting, and the agitation in both his tone and his body language could not be misinterpreted.

"That's good, Bobby," George told him with a reassuring smile. "That's the answer I wanted to hear."

Bobby regaded him sceptically, his body still tense with aggravation.

"But you're going to say I'm not ready yet, aren't you?"

"Yes, I am," George answered with plain honesty. "And before you get angry with me, I want you to look me in the eye and tell me honestly if you think you're ready."

He couldn't do either one. His gaze flickered briefly up to George's, but he couldn't consciously hold his stare, and he could not insist that he was, indeed, ready to go home. A distressed sob escaped him, and he turned quickly away.

"I... I feel like I just went from one prison to another," he choked out. "It... It's not the same as the Centre... and I know everyone here cares about me... but I still feel like everything I do is being watched. I hate it, and I want to be away from it!"

"I can understand that," George conceded. "But Bobby, you do understand that our concern isn't intended to make you feel trapped...?"

"I know that," Bobby whispered as he rubbed roughly at his eyes. "But I can't help how I feel. I... How long have I been here now?"

"About a month."

Bobby's head dropped once more.

"And I'm still too frightened to go outside."

"That's nothing to be ashamed of, Bobby. It's a perfectly reasonable fear, and it's one that you will eventually overcome."

"But if I can't bring myself to go outside here, then what will hapen when I do go home? I'll probably just shut myself away in my apartment... become a recluse... From a prison of their making, to one of my making."

"Aptly put," George murmured. Bobby continued to stare down at the floor, still unable to make deliberate and direct eye contact with the doctor. He felt more tired, and more miserable than ever.

"I just want to go home," he whispered in defeat.

"Bobby," George asked after a moment of careful consideration, "what do you see as my primary purpose for being here? Don't give me a rushed answer. I want you to think it over carefully."

Bobby fell silent, contemplating the question. The truth was that despite his aversion to psychiatrists, he had found talking with George to be remarkably easy, and it had never cross his mind to question the exact reasons for bringing him to the estate. He was simply glad to have someone to talk to who was detached from the entire sordid affair.

He recalled the point at which George had arrived; specifically, soon after he'd confessed to Mike about harbouring thoughts of suicide.

"To stop me from killing myself," he said bluntly.

George smiled wryly at the no-frills answer.

"Yes," he agreed. "That was one of the reasons, to keep you from deliberately harming yourself. Is that all you can think of?"

Bobby shrugged, at a loss to provide a different answer.

"All right," George conceded. "How about I tell you what _I_ see as my purpose for being here?"

"Sure," Bobby said flatly. "Why not?"

"I see my purpose as being to help heal your mind, but also to bring you back to a point where you;ll be confident enough not only to return home, but also to return to work."

"Work," he muttered dismally. "If there's even a job left for me to go back to."

George heard the defeated tone in his voice, and realised that Bobby desperately needed some solid reassurance.

"Do you know that Captain Deakins refused to allow your place in the Major Case Squad to be filled? Even temporarily?"

Bobby looked up slowly at George. No, he did not know that.

"There's... still a place for me...?"

George nodded with a smile.

"Yes, there is. You don't have to worry about that. So whether you go back to work with the NYPD will ultimately be up to you. And you have as much time as you need ahead of you, so you don't have to rush to make that decision."

Bobby drew in a long, shaky breath. That was the first solid reassurance he'd had that perhaps his life as it had once been was not entirely gone from his grasp, and he was more grateful to the doctor than he could fully express.

"Thankyou," he whispered, even as his gaze dropped once more. George nodded, and risked reaching across to clasp Bobby's shoulder in a gentle grip. He was both relieved and grateful when Bobby didn't resist the physical offer of reassurance.

"You're welcome."

* * *

When he finished talking with George, Bobby headed slowly back to his room to think over all that they'd discussed. He was tired, misreable, and generally fed up with everything. He really wanted to go home, and it hurt badly to think that he was still some ways from having that wish fulfilled.

He passed the family room on his way back to his bedroom... No, not _his_, he corrected himself dismally, but a room within someone else's home. He stayed close to the wall, not feeling like dealing with anyone right then, when the sound of music from whatever was showing on the television floated out to him.

He paused just outside the door, not looking in, but his attention caught by the music. It wasn't typically the type of music he would have listened to by choice, but there was a soulfulness about it that clutched at his aching heart. He thought he recognised the voice of the singer, but couldn't quite place him. He soon gave up trying to remember, and focused on the words that floated out to him.

_Now I can't go on, I can't even start,  
__I've got nothing left, just an empty heart.  
__I'm a soldier, wounded so I must give up the fight;  
__There's nothing more for me,  
__Lead me away, or leave me lying here._

Bobby's breath caught in his throat at the words as they registered in his mind. An empty heart... That was just how he was feeling, like an empty shell. And he did want to give up, so badly, because it hurt so much to keep fighting. He felt as though he had no strength left to continue on.

_Sound the bugle, tell them I don't care;  
__There's not a road I know that leads to anywhere.  
__Without a light I fear that I will stumble in the dark;  
L__ay right down, decide not to go on._

Yes, he thought miserably, that was it exactly. He was stumbling along in the dark, and it would be so much easier to just lie down and quit.

_Then from on high, somewhere in the distance  
__There's a voice that calls, remember who you are.  
__If you lose yourself, your courage soon will follow;  
__So be strong tonight. Remember who you are._

Bobby shut his eyes against a sudden onslaught of tears, and he collapsed heavily against the wall. He _had_ lost himself within the nightmare that was the Centre, and he was still struggling to find his identity again, to find what had been stolen from him. _Be strong_, he thought numbly, his mind echoing the words that he'd just heard, like a prayer for much-needed strength. _Remember who you are_...

_Who am I?_ he thought. _Who am I_...

He was so lost within the barriers of his own mind that he almost missed the small hand slipping into his, and he started a little in surprise. Opening his eyes, he looked to find himself staring down at a young boy who seemed almost painfully familiar to him.

"Jarod...?" he whispered in confusion, and for a brief moment he wondered whether he'd finally tipped over that narrow edge into insanity. The boy shook his head.

"No... I mean, I am... but I'm not. My name is James. I... I'm Jarod's clone."

Bobby stared at the boy, startled out of his misery.

"James...?"

"That's right. And you're Bobby."

Without a word, James led Bobby into the family room, but instead of stopping in there, he continued through to the sliding doors that led to a patio area outside. He was just opening the doors up when Bobby finally realised where he was being led, and started to pull back.

With surprising strength for a child, James tightened his grip on Bobby's hand and refused to let go. He looked back at the older man, and offered him a reassuring smile.

"It's okay, really."

When Bobby hesitated, James tried again.

"I was afraid, too, when I first came here. But we really are safe. You don't have to be afraid to go outside. Come with me, let me show you. C'mon."

And, putting his trust in the hands of a child, Bobby allowed himself to be led outside for the first time since his rescue from the Centre.

* * *

_tbc..._

_A/N: The song excerpt is from Bryan Adam's 'Sound The Bugle', from the animated film 'Spirit: Stallion of the Cimmaron'. So much of that music has been a huge inspiration for me in the writing of this story. Particularly the songs 'You Can't Take Me'; 'Sound the Bugle'; 'Run Free' and 'The Long Journey Back'._


	27. My Name Is Bobby Goren

_A/N: I noticed as I was writing this chapter that there are some similarities in events to certain scenes in "Blind Trust". I did a slight double-take at this, before deciding I didn't give a damn. The story is still its own entity, and I can't help that some aspects are similar. What can I say? I just love writing helpless and tormented Bobby._

_And no. This is not the last chapter. Not by a long shot._

_

* * *

_

Emily walked into the family room, tray in hand with a tall glass of chocolate milk and a plate of double choc chip cookies for James, only to stop when she realised he was not there. She paused, considering where he might have disappeared to, when she felt the cool breeze, and realised that the patio door was open.

Curious as to what he might have been doing out there, she set the tray down and went over to see. She was stunned to discover not only James outside, but Bobby as well. As far as she knew, this was the first time he's set foot outside since arriving at the property. It figured that James would be the one to draw him out, she thought wryly.

She stood in the open doorway, watching with increasing delight as Bobby stood in the direct sunlight for the first time in God only knew how long. He was more than a little skittish, though, she noted. He was holding onto James' hand in a vice-like grip – not that James seemed to mind at all. The child clutched Bobby's hand equally firmly, as though he knew that were he to let go, Bobby would flee back inside in an instant. He seemed to be determined not to let that happen.

Emily decided against venturing out to join them. Whatever magic James had woven to coax Bobby into going outside, she didn't want to break the spell.

Smiling quietly to herself, Emily backed off quietly so as not to disturb them, and hurried from the room.

* * *

"He's outside!"

Several pairs of eyes looked up in surprise as Emily burst into the kitchen, brimming with excitement.

"Do you mean...?" Charles started to ask, and she nodded in eager confirmation.

"Yes! I mean Bobby! James got him outside! They're out on the living room patio right now!"

"Well," Margaret remarked with a wry smile, "if anyone other than Alex could have gotten him outside, it was going to be James. He'd understand what Bobby's going through better than any of us. Even Jarod."

"How did he look to you?" Deakins asked, at the same time struggling to suppress a desire to go and see for himself.

"Nervous," Emily admitted. "But I think he must be glad to be outside finally. I've seen him standing at windows over the last couple of weeks, looking like he wanted to go out, but he was too frightened. This is a huge step forward for him."

Deakins nodded in wordless agreement, feeling hopeful once more that maybe, just maybe, Bobby really was on the road to recovery after all.

* * *

The first thing that Bobby noticed, above and beyond anything else, was the complete openness of his surroundings. Even before his pale skin registered the bright warmth of the sun, or the gentle breeze, he couldn't help but notice the wide open land that seemed to stretch out forever.

As James led him over to the half-wall that fenced off the patio, the suffocating sense of confinement that he felt, both from being inside the house and as a result of his own tormented mind, began to ease.

They came to a halt by the wall, but James made no effort to try an extricate his hand from Bobby's. It was just as well, Bobby thought distantly. He doubted he could have let go, even if he'd wanted to. As it was, he had to consciously make an effort not to grip the boy's hand too tightly, and end up hurting him.

"You see, Bobby?" James told him quietly. "Do you see what a nice day it is? You don't want to be inside on a day like today, do you?"

Through the childish coaxing and reassurances, Bobby caught the undertones of a subtle psychology at play. He knew he was being carefully manipulated, and by a child at that, but for once he didn't give a damn. It _was _a nice day, and all of a sudden he'd never felt so relieved to be outside in his entire life. The warmth of the sun felt intensely good and, for the first time since he regained full and conscious awareness after his rescue, he could really start to let himself believe that he was free from the Centre.

Right at that moment, Bobby didn't about Raines. He didn't care about Lyle, and he didn't care about Sydney. All he cared about was the overwhelming feeling of relief that was spreading rapidly through his body. He felt a gentle tug on his hand, and looked to see James was pointing off to the right.

"We have horses over there. You could go riding, if you want. And there's a heated pool further around. And over that way, Mom has a beautiful big garden. I spend hours out there, sometimes. There's lots to do out here, Bobby. Don't be afraid to come outside. There's so much that you'd be missing out on."

Drawing in a shuddering breath, Bobby turned his face upwards, to the sky. The last time he had been outside, in the sunlight, he'd been fighting off the effects of hallucinogenic drugs, and had been on the run. Now, he was able to stop and look around guiltlessly... and fearlessly.

Overcome with a sudden rush of emotion, Bobby gave a choked sob and slid to the ground, completely overwhelmed. James went down with him, still holding his hand.

"I... I never thought I'd see daylight again," Bobby choked out, blinded by his tears. "When I escaped, I was glad to be outside... but I was scared, too, because I knew they were coming after me. I didn't have time to appreciate being outside... and then they caught me, and I was locked back up again. I don't remember a lot from the night they rescued me. I remember seeing stars, but not much else. I remember being so happy to see those stars."

"I was really scared when Jarod and Dad got me out," James admitted. "I'd been told lies about who Jarod was, and I thought he was going to hurt me. And, I'd never been outside the Centre before, so I didn't know what anything was, much. When Dad brought me here, I was frightened of everything, but most of all I was frightened of going outside. I thought they'd find me, and take me back, but they didn't. But it took a long time for me to know that I was safe, and that Mom and Dad wouldn't let the Centre take me back. When I did finally understand, then I really started enjoying going outside. You're safe, too, Bobby. Your friends won't let anything happen to you again."

Bobby rubbed furiously at his eyes, and looked down at his and James' hands, still locked tightly together, as though in solidarity. He lifted his gaze to the boy's face, and saw nothing but understanding.

"Thankyou, James," he whispered in sincere gratitude. "I... I'm sorry..."

"It's okay," James reassured him. "I don't mind. Everything's going to be fine."

Bobby sighed faintly and relaxed a little against the wall. Everything was going to be fine. And, for the first time since arriving at the estate, Bobby felt that he could really believe that.

* * *

"Heard you went outside today."

Bobby looked up to see Alex standing in the doorway of his room, watching him with a smile. To her great pleasure, he returned her smile with one of his own, and there was a warmth in it that she hadn't experienced for a long time.

"I... was kind of goaded into it."

She ventured into the bedroom, and sat down beside him on the bed.

"Does it really matter? The point is, you made it outside. How did it feel?"

Bobby paused in answering her. He stared at the floor, considering his elation at being outside as opposed to the staggering waves of panic he'd suffered.

"Happy..." he said finally, "but scared, too."

Alex slipped her hand into his, and was grateful that he didn't pull away.

"It'll be a little less frightening every day," she murmured.

A small, tired smile touched his lips.

"That's what I keep telling myself. I'm not sure if it's working or not."

Her gaze went down to the notebook in his lap, and she caught a glimpse of small, neat letters – _Robert Goren_. Before she could get a proper look at it, though, Bobby flipped the notebook closed and set it aside.

"Alex, would you..."

"Would I what, Bobby?"

"Would you go for a walk with me, tomorrow? James... He said there's a garden..."

The warm smile that spread across Alex's face soothed Bobby's nerves to a manageable level, and she leaned over to kiss him lightly on the cheek.

"I'd love to. We don't have to wait until tomorrow, though. We could go now, if you'd like. Dinner won't be ready for maybe half an hour yet, so we have a bit of time."

Bobby, however, couldn't suppress the look of panic that lit up his eyes at the thought of venturing outside again that day.

"I... I don't think I can," he whispered, and Alex couldn't miss the raw fear in his voice, or the tremor that passed from his body to hers through their joined hands. "N... Not again today. I... I'm sorry..."

"It's okay," she murmured, squeezing his hand to reassure him. "Really, it is. I would love to go for a walk with you, anytime you like. You just have to say."

The relief he felt was so palpable that even Alex could sense it.

"Thankyou," he whispered. He hesitated, and then stood up. "I just have to..." He trailed off, and motioned towards the bathroom. She nodded wordlessly, and he shuffled across the floor and into the other room, carefully closing the door after him.

His feet were still hurting him, she noted sadly, and probably would for a while. The cuts had been bad, and were always going to take time to heal. Although, she reflected, the pain from those cuts were probably laughable compared to the pain that he'd suffered whilst in the Centre.

She glanced around while waiting for him to re-emerge, and her gaze fell on his notebook. For several seconds, she simply stared at it. Then, making an abrupt decision, she stretched across and lifted the cover to look inside.

It took a conscious effort on her part to suppress a gasp of surprise. Every line of the front page of the notebook was filled, and it was the same sentence written over and over again.

_My name is Robert Goren. My name is Robert Goren. My name is Robert Goren. My name is Robert Goren. _

It was written over and over again, filling up the entire page.

The sound of the bathroom door opening caught her by surprise, and she let the cover drop. Looking back, she was relieved that Bobby's attention was on the floor, and not on her. When he did look back at her, she quietly thanked her lucky stars that he was still some way off his usual hyper-vigilant self. Otherwise, she would have had some explaining to do.

"So, are you hungry, then?" she asked, standing up to join him. He nodded, and she ushered him out of his room with a gentle arm around his waist.

"Oh, and Alex..." Bobby said, pausing in the doorway.

"Mm?" she asked. He smiled faintly at her, his eyes glinting with a hint of mischief.

"Next time you want to know what's in my notebook, just ask."

She stared after him as he continued on down the hallway, momentarily dumb-founded. Then, laughing softly, Alex hurried after him.

* * *

George sat patiently, watching Alex with a mixture of curiosity and concern. She'd come to him late, after Bobby had finally given in to his exhaustion and turned in for the night. She clearly had something on her mind, but now was having difficulty putting it into words.

"I'm sorry," she apologised finally. "I just... I don't know if I'm being paranoid..."

"Why don't you say what's bothering you," George suggested. "Then we'll discuss whether it's paranoia or not."

Alex sighed softly. Fair enough.

"I went to talk to Bobby earlier today. He had a notebook with him..."

George nodded placidly.

"I gave that to him. He's still having trouble giving a voice to a lot of his fears. We both thought it might be a way for him to get his worst fears out in the open."

"Well, then," Alex said grimly, "I think one of his biggest fears is his loss of identity. I got a look inside the book, and he's written his name, over and over in it."

George shifted slightly in his chair. That got his attention. He'd worry about discussing privacy issues with Alex later.

"His name, you say?"

"He'd written 'My name is Robert Goren' in it over and over again. The first page was filled with it."

A thoughtful look descended onto George's face.

"He's searching for a way to reclaim his identity from the Centre."

Alex frowned. "I don't understand. He _knows_ who he is."

"It's not as simple as that, Alex," George told her quietly. "Over nine months, Bobby had it drilled into his head that he was only who the Centre wanted him to be. Nine months of intensive brain-washing, if that term makes it easier to understand. Yes, he knows what his name is. He has a fairly well-rounded idea of who _we_ expect him to be, but he is still trying to recover that part of his personality... and yes, his identity. It's not something where we can just click our fingers, and everything's fine. The psychological damage that was done by that place was immense. He's making good progress, but there is still a lot that he's trying to come to grips with."

"Before all this happened," Alex said softly, her eyes on the floor, "I would never have believed it was possible for Bobby to be this afraid."

A sad smile touched George's lips.

"Everyone is capable of feeling terror, Alex. We only need to be placed in the right circumstance. You told me the other day that you were aware that he suffered nightmares a lot before this all happened?"

She nodded in confirmation.

"That's right. I always just assumed that they were related to his mom... and his dad... but I guess that was wrong."

"Bobby escaped the Centre physically as a child," George said, "but he never escaped it psychologically. Not completely. There was always a part of his mind that was trapped in that place. I can understand Charles' motivations for encouraging Bobby to suppress his memories of the place when he was a boy, but ultimately it was only a band-aid fix. Even if the Centre hadn't come after him again, sooner or later those memories were going to force their way into his conscious mind, and I think that would have triggered a major breakdown."

Alex gave a short, bitter laugh.

"He would have thought he'd developed his mother's schizophrenia after all. He... He said something to me... the day that he was taken..."

"What did he say?"

"He, um... He said it was ironic, that maybe his mom wasn't so crazy after all. All along, a lot of her delusions had revolved around _them_ coming for Bobby to take him away from her. And the irony was, there really was a _them_ after all."

"It was probably Bobby's absence over that original five year period that triggered that particular obsession in her mind," George mused. "Coming home after recovering from that very first break, to find her youngest son gone... God knows what story Bobby's father would have given her... And then no word of him for the next five years... It would be interesting to know whether she attempted to report his disappearance to the police."

Alex nodded. The same thing had occurred to her, but in the end she hadn't looked into it. She hadn't been able to see the point. Now, her curiosity was aroused again, and she determined to look it up once they were finally able to return home.

"And then, when he does finally come home, he's a far different child to the boy she remembers," George went on. "Really, it's not hard to see where the basis of that delusion formed. And certainly on a subconscious level, Bobby would have feared the Centre sending someone to take him away again."

She didn't respond to that, trying in her own mind to come to grips with the hell Bobby must have lived through – in trying to deal with his mother's illness and delusions, while at the same time knowing sunconsciously that there was a frightening element of truth to those delusions.

"Be patient, Alex," George told her softly. "I know you don't like continually hearing that, but I'm telling you anyway. Bobby _is_ making progress, and he'll eventually get through that tunnel to the other side. The man you worked with isn't gone. It's just going to take time for him to climb out of the hole that those people tried to bury him in."

Alex grimaced a little as she got slowly to her feet.

"That's not a comforting metaphor, George."

He smiled faintly.

"Maybe not, Alex, but accurate all the same. I'll say it again, give him time."

She paused in the doorway, and George thought he detected the slightest of sighs from her.

"I am," she said softly. "Right now, that's all I can give him."

* * *

_That night,  
__Some time after midnight_

Bobby lay awake long after the house fell quiet. It wasn't so much that he wasn't ired. The day had been a long one for him, and he was tired enough, but his mind was too full to let him relax completely. Ironically, it was the closest he'd come so far to how he'd been prior to his abduction so long ago now.

His thoughts kept returning to earlier that day, when James had led him outside. They'd stayed out there, sitting on the paved ground for nearly half an hour, while Bobby had tried to keep a grip on his panic. He'd been just about ready to break ranks and hightail it inside when Mike and Carolyn happened upon them. Neither had shown any surprise at finding him there. Instead, they'd joined the two of them on the patio, carrying on their conversation as though there was nothing out of the ordinary going on.

At some point, Bobby had pushed through the haze of his own nerves to notice that his friends were holding hands and sitting very close in a very unprofessional way. He wondered vaguely when that had happened, but made no comment.

In the end, Bobby had stayed outside for over an hour and a half – far longer than he'd imagined he'd be able to. Of course, he'd just about been reduced to a nervous wreck by the time he did finally retreat into the house, but the pleasure of all those around him had made it worth while. Especially, he thought with a small smile, Alex.

His smile faded as rapidly as it had appeared, as his mind slipped back again to his conversation with George, prior to his little trip outside onto the family room patio.

His head was practically spinning from everything they'd talked about, but the most predominant thing in his mind was the wish he'd expressed to George about wanting to go home. That desire was powerful, almost to the point of being overwhelming but, like with just about everything right then, there was also a strong and sickening fear.

In this instance, that fear was for what his future held if... No, he thought grimly. Not if, but _when_ he did eventually go home to New York, he honestly had no idea what would be in store for him.

Sure, George had told him that Captain Deakins was holding his position in the Major Case Squad for him, but that in itself was not enough to guarantee he would ever be able to return to his career as a detective. He lay there, trying hard to picture himself as he had once been – a confident, strong-willed police detective with first graded ranking – and he couldn't do it.

No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't imagine even something as simple as sitting at his desk, inside the Major Case Squad room, doing regular paperwork. He couldn't picture himself interrogating a suspect... He couldn't picture any of it, and the harder he tried, the worse his anxiety became.

He knew what he wanted, and could see no feasible way of reaching those goals. Right then, even his very identity was in doubt, thanks to nine months of steady, unbroken mental assault from the so-called doctors at the Centre.

"My name is Robert Goren," he whispered, and felt sick once again at the realisation that that simple sentence had little to no meaning for him. "My name is Robert Goren. My name is Robert Goren. My name is Robert Goren..."

Nothing. He felt no emotion and no connection as his name passed his own lips, and it was just the same whenever he heard anyone else in the house say his name. It meant nothing to him.

Tears stung his eyes as he sat up and switched on the bed lamp, reaching across to the bedside table and picking up the notebook that he'd placed there. Slowly, with trembling fingers, he opened it up to stare at its contents. Not only the first page, but several pages after that were all filled with the same words.

_My name is Robert Goren. _

The same words, written over and over again, with increasing desperation. He glanced up, and flinched visibly as he caught a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror that was built into the closet door. Lyle's words filled his mind, despite his best efforts to stop them. That silky, evil voice whispered persistently in his mind that he was nobody, that his identity was whatever his controllers decided it was.

He froze, his gaze locking onto the last couple of pages that had writing on them. He'd been almost in a trance-like state after a while, writing automatically without really focusing on what he was actually writing. Now, he was seeing. He was seeing it all too clearly.

Halfway down the second last page, the words changed from _My name is Robert Goren_, to _I am nobody_.

Bobby sucked in a shaky breath, barely able to believe it. A page and a half, filled with the hated words that Lyle had forced on him so cruelly. Lyle's vitriol had so penetrated his conscious _and_ subconscious mind that he was repeating it without even realising it. He wondered with a growing feeling of nausea how many times since his rescue those words had crept into his thoughts... and into his actions.

In a sudden, almost exlosive fit of rage, Bobby tore all of the pages from the notebook, scattering them over the floor. Then, with a strangled sob of anguish, Bobby climbed awkwardly out of bed and, without pausing to so much as pull on his robe, he made his way out of his bedroom.

* * *

Alex awoke with a start, not entirely sure what had pulled her from her sleep. She lay in the silence, and in the darkness, trying to work out whether she'd heard something, or whether she'd woken from a dream. She didn't know. All she did know was that she was suddenly wide awake.

Sighing inwardly, she got up and pulled on her robe, intending to make her way to the kitchen to get a warm drink that she hoped would help her get back to sleep. It was as she emerged into the hall that she noticed the soft light coming from Bobby's room. Concerned that he was perhaps awake as the result of a nightmare, she went to look in on him.

She froze in the doorway of his room, staring at his empty bed in surprise. Maybe he was just in the bathroom, she tried to assure herself. But no – even from where she stood in the doorway, she could see there was no light on in the ensuite. He was not in there. So, where...?

As she ventured slowly into the room, her gaze quickly went to the scattered pages on the floor. She bent down to gather them up, and her sharp eyes were quick to see the same words that had triggered Bobby's emotional reaction. She stared at the words for several seconds, and then her gaze shifted back to the empty bed, and a new thought swept through her mind.

_Where was he?_

Clutching the pages tightly in her hand, Alex fled the room to get help.

* * *

Mike grumbled in annoyance as he was woken unceremoniously to the sensation of someone shaking him hard. His mind still foggy with sleep, he tried to shrug off the offending person, but they would not be dissuaded.

"Go 'way," he mumbled, trying unsuccessfully to roll over, away from whoever it was. "Too early..."

"Mike, for God's sake, wake up!"

He stiffened, jolted a little further out of sleep not just by the sound of Alex's voice, but in particular by the panic in her voice. Shifting around, he forced his eyes open to find her crouching by the bed with a look of real fear in her eyes.

"Alex...? What's wrong?"

"Bobby's gone," she told him, and Mike felt his blood chill.

"What do you mean, gone? Gone, as in not in his room? Or gone, as in not in this house?"

"He's not in his room," she answered hoarsely. "I don't know if he's still in the house or not. I hope he is, but I don't know."

Mike sat up properly, rubbing at his eyes.

"Maybe he just went to the kitchen, or something. Did you check his bathroom?"

"I checked both," she insisted. "He wasn't anywhere you'd expect him to be if he'd woken up in the middle of the night. Mike, I found these on the floor of his room."

He took the pages from her, and flipped through them with moderate interest. When he reached the last couple of pages, though, he froze.

"What the hell...?"

"Exactly," Alex said. "Mike we have to find him!"

Without any further hesitation, Mike swung himself out of bed and grabbed his robe.

"Go wake Carolyn... and Margaret and Emily, too. I'll get the captain, and George."

"What about Jarod?"

Mike hesitated, a distinct frown on his face. In all truth, he had never liked or trusted Jarod, and he honestly believed it would be better if they could find Bobby without his help. It was a chain reaction, though – Waking Margaret would inevitably mean waking Charles, and Charles would more than likely wake Jarod before doing anything.

"I'll wake him," he said grudgingly. "Go on. We'll meet in the family room."

* * *

A few minutes later, the entire household was awake and gathered in the family room, and Alex showed them the pages she'd found. George took them from her, concern written all over his features.

"This is not good," he murmured.

"Don't start psychoanalysing it now, Doc," Mike told him. "Right now, we need to find Bobby. _Then_ we worry about inner meanings, and all that shit."

"Okay," Charles said grimly. "We'll start with the house, and then move to the grounds if necessary. Perhaps if we split up into groups of two, or three? Alex and Jim, you two search the east side of the house on this floor... Mike and Carolyn, you take the west side. Jarod and George, you take the east side on the upper level, and Margaret, Emily and I will take the west side up there. All right?"

A murmur of agreement went through the group, and they hurried off to begin the search.

* * *

"It couldn't be the Centre responsible for this, could it?" Carolyn asked softly as she and Mike hurried upstairs. "I mean, they couldn't have found him, could they?"

"I'm trying to tell myself no," Mike answered. "But if we don't find him in the house... Well, you saw what he was like outside. If that kid hadn't been holding his hand so tightly, he would've bolted back inside for sure. I don't think he'd go outside. At least, not on his own. Not yet."

"But to take him from inside this house?" Carolyn asked incredulously. "That's hard to believe, Mike."

He paused, looking at her grimly.

"As hard to believe that they could have abducted him right from inside the Chief of D's office, in One Police Plaza?"

Carolyn blanched at Mike's blunt reminder and he nodded, satisfied that her memory had been sufficiently jogged.

"Now, can we please concentrate on finding him?"

She nodded in wordless agreement, and hurried down the hall after her partner.

* * *

When Alex and Deakins passed through the kitchen, Alex paused to check the drawers with all the knives were still securely locked.

"Just making sure," she said grimly. Deakins nodded wordlessly. As much as he hated to admit it, when Mike woke him up to tell him that Bobby was missing, it was the first thought that crossed his mind – that Bobby had acquired a knife... or some other sharp implement, and had finally put himself out of his misery. Finding the knife drawers locked and apparently not interfered with was a huge weight off his mind. Of course, that then left the way open for a number of other, equally unpleasant scenarios in his mind.

"Alex, try to think," he told her as they began to search the rooms beyond the kitchen. "Think about the state of mind that he might have been in, and try to think where he might have gone."

She glanced at him in aggravation.

"Despite what people seem to believe, I don't actually have a psychic connection with my partner."

Deakins smiled faintly.

"I never suggested you did, Alex. But you know him better than any of us. Where do _you_ think he might go?"

She looked away, frustrated and frigthened. She could barely think straight as it was, and he was expecting her to second-guess Bobby's movements... and his very thoughts?

"Captain, I can't even be sure what state of mind he's in. Angry... frightened... depressed... I don't know."

"Let's assume he's angry," Deakins said. "He's realised just how much the Centre's conditioning has wormed its way into his consciousness. What is he going to want to do?"

Alex raised an eyebrow at him.

"You mean, aside from killing Lyle, Raines and Sydney?"

A wry smile flickered across Deakins' lips.

"Speaking in immediate terms. What is it that he's been trying to do ever since we rescued him from that place?"

Alex drew in a long breath, and as she wondered, her mind slipped back to what Bobby had initially written in the pages of that notebook.

_My name is Robert Goren_...

"He's trying to claim back his identity," Alex said softly. Deakins nodded his agreement.

"Exactly."

Again, she raised an eyebrow at him.

"Are you going somewhere with this, or are you just hoping that I'll have a sudden flare of inspiration?"

He let his breath out in a frustrated rush.

"I don't know."

"Well, that makes two of us."

Deakins came to a halt, and looked around them.

"He has to still be somewhere in this house. He wouldn't have gone outside, not alone."

"He would if he was desperate enough," Alex countered. "Or, angry enough."

"But even if he was that angry... or desperate," Deakins argued, "he wouldn't have gone far, surely. He's even less familiar with this territory that we are."

"When you're that angry," Alex muttered, "you don't tend to stop and think about those things."

"Alex, answer me honestly. Do you really believe he might have left the house?"

She stopped, considering that for several long seconds before sighing and shaking her head.

"No," she admitted softly. "I don't. I think he's probably holed himself up somewhere inside."

Deakins nodded.

"All right, then. Let's find him."

* * *

"You don't seem surprised by this," George commented as he and Jarod searched the many rooms upstairs on the west side of the building.

"Honestly?" Jarod said. "I'm not. I thought he was making progress..."

"He was," George stated firmly. "He was making a lot a progress. I was actually surprised by how well he was doing. This..." He waved the pages that Alex had handed to him in the air for emphasis. "This isn't necessarily a setback."

"Maybe not, but I felt for a little while now like there was something simmering beneath the surface, waiting to blow. You have to understand, in the nine months they had him, they would have forced him to undergo intensive reconditioning. He was never going to be able to break away from that in just a matter of weeks. It could be years down the track before he can finally break that hold. He'll find it creeping in on him subconsciously for a long time to come."

"You think he's had a major breakdown," George said quietly, and Jarod nodded.

"Yes, I do." He paused, taking in the sceptical look on George's face. "I take it you disagree, Doctor?"

"As a matter of fact, I do," George confirmed. "I don't believe this is a breakdown of any sort. I think it's simply a case of Bobby trying to find his own way through everything. Whatever's happened now, I believe it's just him looking for solutions that work for him."

Jarod looked grim as he peered into one room, looking around carefully.

"I hope you're right, Dr Huang. I really do."

He retreated out of the room, and started to continue on down the hall, only to realise George wasn't with him. He looked back to see the doctor staring at a door that he himself had overlooked.

"What's behind this door?" George wondered.

"A staircase," Jarod answered, coming back and pushing open the door to reveal a very narrow, rickety-looking set of stairs. "It goes up to the roof. We never use it, though... James is the only one who uses it. He's the only one who ever goes up there."

George hesitated for just a moment, his mind working overtime. How, he wondered, could a person leave the house without leaving the house? Go up on the roof...

"He's up there," George said abruptly, and with such certainty that it simply didn't occur to Jarod to argue. "Jarod, go up and talk to him. I'm going to go and get Alex."

He turned and hurried off before Jarod could argue. The pretender stood there for a long moment before conceding to George's deduction, and making his way up the narrow stairs.

* * *

Alex and the captain had just finished searching their allocated section of the house, and were about to turn their attention to the immediate outside surroundings when George caught up with them.

"Did you find him?" Deakins asked, taking in George's countenance with a mixture of concern and hope.

"The roof," George told them. "I think he's up on the roof. Jarod's gone up there to talk to him, but you need to get up there, Alex."

The panic in her eyes was painfully obvious.

"You think he might try to...?"

She couldn't even bring herself to finish that sentence.

"I don't know," George answered honestly. "I hope not, but I really do think you need to go to him. There's a staircase on the upper floor, on the east wall of the house."

She needed no further encouragement, and promptly took off at a run. Without a moment's hesitation, George and Deakins both followed.

* * *

Bobby wasn't especially surprised when he heard the door open behind him. Standing at the very edge of the roof, looking over, he'd seen lights going on all over the place, and he figured his absence had been discovered. He didn't move, though, or look behind him to see who was there. He figured, they'd identify themselves sooner or later.

"Do you mind if I join you?"

A faint sigh escaped Bobby. Jarod. He was almost disappointed.

"It's your home, not mine."

The deeper meaning of Bobby's words weren't lost on Jarod. He crossed the roof, and joined Bobby at the edge, looking out into the darkness for a long moment before speaking again.

"Why did you come up here, Bobby?"

"Why not?"

His voice was laced with hostility, which Jarod ignored.

"I didn't say you couldn't," Jarod answered calmly, "or that you shouldn't. I was just curious."

"I needed time... alone."

Jarod nodded wordlessly. That was something he could certainly understand, and sympathise with.

"I wanted to go outside," he said softly. "I... I thought I'd be able to... but I couldn't."

"This might be a moot point," Jarod said with a wry smile, "but you _are_ outside."

Bobby heard the amusement in Jarod's voice, and couldn't hold back the small smile that fought its way to the surface.

"You know what I mean," he grumbled, but there was no real irritation in his tone. Jarod laughed softly.

"I know," he agreed. "But seriously, this was a pretty big step, just coming out here on your own. You'll be going outside again like the rest of us before you know it, Bobby."

Bobby's head hung slightly.

"I realised something tonight."

"What's that?"

"I realised that I need to let go of my fear if I'm ever going to get my life back. I... I want my life back, Jarod."

"I know you do, Bobby."

After a moment's quiet, Bobby looked around slowly at Jarod.

"You all thought I'd finally snapped, didn't you?"

Jarod decided against lying. Bobby was far too perceptive.

"I did," he admitted. "For the record, though, Dr Huang didn't."

That gave Bobby food for thought.

"And... Alex?"

"I think she was just worried," Jarod murmured. "We all were. Bobby... what you wrote on those pages..."

Even in the dark, Jarod could see Bobby's grip tighten considerably on the waist-high concrete wall that separated them from a very long drop.

"Even when I'm free, I'm still trapped. When... When I was retaken by the Centre, I swore to myself that no matter what happened, the one thing I'd never let them take from me was my identity. But in the end, I couldn't stop them. Lyle and Raines... and even Sydney... They all had a part in taking that from me. It was all I had left, and they stripped it away from me like everything else. I... I don't know who I am anymore, Jarod. I feel like that man that everyone else remembers was just a facade... a front that I put up to hide behind. Except, I don't know what it was that I was trying to hide. I try to see inside myself, and all I see is a blank sheet of paper. I... I can take on anyone's identity... except my own, because I don't know what my identity is anymore!"

Jarod sighed softly.

"That's not something that I can help you to rediscover, Bobby." He paused, looking back over his shoulder, and a smile lit up his face. "But here's someone who can."

Bobby glanced quizzically at Jarod, and then looked around to see who was there. The relief and gratitude on his face was all too clear at the sight of his diminutive partner.

Alex came forward as Jarod retreated. They exchanged smiles as they passed each other; Jarod's was one of encouragement, while Alex's was one of gratitude. Then, Jarod was gone, disappearing back inside, while Alex joined Bobby at the ledge.

"You scared me," she told him softly, slipping her arm gently through his.

"I didn't mean to," he whispered, and she responded by hugging him gently.

"I know, Bobby. But when I saw those pages... and what you'd written... Do you really believe that?"

"I don't want to," Bobby told her, grief in his voice. "But... I just don't know who I am anymore! I... I don't have an identity of my own. They stole that from me, Alex, and I don't know how to get it back!"

"Bullshit."

He blinked, looking down at her in astonishment, and she returned his stare with a fierce look of her own.

"That's right," she growled. "You heard me right. That's bullshit, Bobby. No matter what you think they managed to convince you of, the bottom line is that your identity is the one thing they could _never_ take from you. They just managed to confuse you, and make you think they'd succeeded. But they didn't. I know you, and I can see the man I knew in your eyes. He isn't gone... just gone into hiding. There's a big difference."

"Did... Did you hear what I said to Jarod?"

"Yes, I heard," she confirmed, "and I'm telling you right now that Detective Bobby Goren was _not_ a facade. That is who you are, Bobby. You _are_ Bobby Goren. Detective, son, friend..." She paused, reaching up to cup his cheek tenderly. "Lover... They can't ever take that from you, because it's too deeply a part of you." She reached up with the other hand, clasping his face gently between her palms. "Your name is Bobby Goren. That is who you are, and no one can ever, _ever_ take that away from you."

Shuddering, Bobby turned from her, to stare out into the darkness. Alex felt her heart sink, taking his movement as a dismissal. Suddenly finding it nearly impossible to see, she began to walk away from him, desperate to shield her pain before it became too much to deal with.

"Did you hear that?"

Alex started in shock as Bobby suddenly shouted into the night, a renewed strength in his voice. She looked back at him in astonishment, taking in his tensed body, and the mixture of desperation and determination on his tear-streaked face. He bellowed again, his voice cracking from the effort he was making.

"Did you hear that, you goddamn sons of bitches? My name is Bobby Goren! My name, and you can't take it away from me! Do you hear me? _My name is Bobby Goren!_"

She hurried back to his side as he slid to his knees on the ground, slipping an arm supportively around his shoulders as he cried.

"It's okay, Bobby," she murmured, kissing his temple softly. "It's okay."

"Thankyou," he whispered, leaning his head against hers. "Thankyou... for everything." His arms slipped around her, and she felt a not so small thrill when she felt his lips brush lightly over her hair before he hugged her to him.

"I love you, Bobby," she whispered, not even sure if he could hear her. "I love you, and I won't let them take you away from me again. Not physically, not mentally, and not emotionally." She slid her arms around his waist, content to stay there for as long as he wanted to hold her. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

He spoke the words so softly that she almost missed them, and even then it took her a few moments to realise what he'd said. And when she did realise, it took all her strength not to break into a flood of tears right then and there. All she did know for sure right then, as they held each other close, was a renewed determination that the Centre would never again lay their filthy claws on Bobby, and she would die trying to protect him.

* * *

_tbc..._


	28. A Difference of Opinion

A/N: _My thanks to Bammi1 for her input with this chapter. I love our long chats, and it's fantastic to have someone to bounce ideas off. And, of course this is not the last chapter._

_

* * *

_

Alex awoke to sunlight. She lay there for a few minutes, her mind a blank while she enjoyed the warmth that was streaming into the room. Then, as memories of the previous night came back, a smile made its way onto her face.

She and Bobby had stayed up on the roof for another half hour, at least – she comforting him while he wept. When his tears finally eased, and then stopped altogether, she'd coaxed him back inside and back to his room, where she'd helped him into bed once more. When she'd turned to go, though, Bobby had stopped her.

He'd caught her hand and pulled her back, and before she knew what was going on, she was lying on the bed beside him, with his arms folded around her. Bobby had begged her not to leave him alone again and then, to her delight, he'd leaned towards her and pressed his lips lightly to hers. Any thoughts of leaving that she might still have harboured were obliterated in that moment.

It hadn't gone any further than that, of course, but it was the promise of what lay ahead for them that really thrilled her. His actions, simple though they'd been, had shown her that her love was not unrequited, and that he cared for her just as much as she did for him. They would eventually reach the point where they were ready to share themselves with each other. She had no doubt about that, and it gave her something tangible to look towards. She only hoped that, when they eventually returned to New York, and to work, Deakins would still be willing to turn a blind eye.

Her smile widened a little with satisfaction. After all that had already happened, she didn't think that was going to be a problem.

Deciding that she was, indeed, awake, Alex slowly sat up. She stretched and yawned as she did so, and it was as she was relaxing again that it occurred to her that Bobby was not there. The second thought to occur to her was that she felt no panic at his absence. Indeed, she realised that the constant fear she'd felt for Bobby since arriving at the estate had subsided considerably after that night's events.

Bobby had successfully negotiated another hurdle, and she had seen the difference in his eyes as they'd lain together in the bed. He was still afraid, but there was a sense of control there that had long been missing. She honestly believed that he was, finally, starting to claim back his life, as he had been so desperately trying to do ever since his rescue from the Centre.

Alex got up, intending to have a shower and get dressed, when movement out on the patio outside Bobby's room drew her attention. She went to look, and was both surprised and pleased to find it was Bobby who was out there. Without a second thought, she pushed the door open, and stepped outside to join him.

* * *

Bobby looked around at the sound of the door sliding open, and a small but genuine smile lit up his face at the sight of her.

"Good morning," he murmured, holding out an arm to her. She went willingly into his embrace, stretching up to place a gentle kiss on his cheek.

"Good morning. How long have you been out here?"

"An hour, maybe," he estimated after a moment's thought. "Since just before sun-up, anyway. It... It's the first sunrise I've seen since before they took me. It was beautiful, Alex."

She slipped her arms around his waist, but took care not to squeeze too tightly.

"You should have woken me up. We could have enjoyed it together."

"I will next time," he promised. "It's just, after last night, I thought you'd prefer to sleep."

The soft laugh escaped her before she could stop it. She had to admit, he knew her well. Some things just never changed.

"Thankyou," she murmured with sincere gratitude, smiling at the way his arm tightened a little around her shoulders, and drew her in closer still. "Bobby, how are you feeling? I mean, after last night...?"

He didn't answer immediately, but continued to stare out across the property.

"Better," he answered finally, though the frown on his face suggested he was having trouble accurately describing his feelings to her. "I... I mean... I feel more in control now. I still feel scared... but I feel more like I'm ready to deal with it now. I... I _want_ to deal with it. I want to face it. I... I feel like I _can_ face it now. It... It's a pretty good feeling."

She hugged him to her.

"It's confidence, Bobby. You're starting to find your confidence again. Those people tried to break you, but they didn't succeed."

"No," Bobby agreed, and she silently rejoiced at the fresh determination in his voice. "They didn't."

* * *

Breakfast was a lively affair that morning, as everyone in the house sensed a positive change in the air. Though Bobby was still as quiet as he had been on previous mornings, none of them could miss the way he was now watching all of them, and following the conversations. Previously, he'd kept his head down, refusing to meet anyone's gaze and letting any conversation simply drift over him. Now, even though he wasn't verbally taking part, he was still making an effort to connect by meeting the gaze of anyone who happened to look at him, and even go so far as to offer a small smile. It was a huge difference, and it was felt by them all.

"I'm going swimming after breakfast," Emily announced. "Anyone care to join me?"

Momentary silence met her query before Carolyn spoke up with enthusiasm.

"I'll join you."

A grin passed across Mike's lips as he eyed his partner with a less than professional glint in his eyes.

"Count me in, too."

"Down, boy," Carolyn remarked dryly. "I didn't bring my bikini. It's too damned cold."

Mike frowned, visibly disappointed. A moment later, she leaned across and whispered something into his ear. She'd barely finished speaking when Bobby suddenly choked on his juice, and looked around at Carolyn incredulously.

"You want to do _what_ to him?"

Carolyn stared back at Bobby in astonishment, her face heating up visibly.

"You... heard me?"

Mike smirked, and couldn't quite suppress a laugh.

"Yeah, he heard you, Carolyn. Our boy's got really great hearing. Seriously, he could rival the Six Million Dollar Man."

"Mike, you idiot," Alex retorted dryly. "It wasn't Steve Austin who had the bionic hearing. It was his girlfriend. He had the bionic eyesight."

Mike snorted, unperturbed by his error.

"Whatever, Alex. You know what I mean."

Amused, Deakins leaned forward, against the table.

"What did Carolyn say she wanted to do, Bobby?"

Bobby hesitated, glancing sideways at Carolyn, who shot him a death glare.

"Don't even think about it, Goren."

A grin spread slowly across Bobby's face at her warning.

"How much is it worth to you for me not to say anything?"

Her expression darkened even more, although inwardly she was cheering that he was actively joining in with the banter.

"How much is it worth to you for me not to soak your head when we get in the pool?"

Bobby started to reply, only to falter as, for the briefest of moments, a new and disturbing memory threatened to claim him. Then, it was gone, and the only evidence of it remaining in his mind was the faintest sense of unease.

"Bobby?" Alex asked gently. "Are you okay?"

He nodded and tried to offer her a reassuring smile, but couldn't quite manage it.

"I'm fine, really," he murmured, desperately wanting to shift the attention from himself. Seeing his discomfort, Deakins spoke up decisively in an effort to change the subject.

"I think a swim is a damned good idea. I'll be in on that."

Emily nodded.

"That's four of us. Who else?"

Alex looked around at Bobby questioningly. The thought of going for a swim was an inviting one, but she wasn't going to place Bobby in an uncomfortable position. If he didn't want to, then she would go along with that. She was surprised, though, when he answered positively.

"I'll go swimming," he confirmed. "Except... I don't think I have..."

He trailed off, flushing red with embarrassment.

"Swim shorts?" Margaret suggested lightly, and he nodded, his gaze suddenly fixed on the table top. She smiled reassuringly, ruffling his hair with gentle affection as she walked past with a stack of dirty breakfast plates. "Don't you worry about that, sweetheart. You'll find a couple of pairs in the drawers in your room. We had a couple of pairs sent up along with the rest of your clothes. Just in case you decided you felt like a swim."

Bobby blushed an even fiercer red, but managed to verbally express his gratitude.

"Thankyou."

* * *

Half an hour later, after breakfast was done, Alex walked into Bobby's room to find him sitting on the edge of his bed. He wore the swim shorts, and nothing else, and he had his arms folded tightly around his body, as though for protection. She paused in the doorway, watching him with a renewed feeling of grief and pain.

As on that very first night, after the rescue, Alex was struck by the physical evidence of the abuse that had been perpetrated on Bobby. His upper body was covered in scars, some old and some new. Those injuries that had still been raw and open wounds on the night they'd brought him to the estate were now covered over by tender, pale pink flesh, which would in time turn white and harden into more scar tissue. His entire body, she thought miserably, was a testament to his suffering.

Equally shocking to see, though, was Bobby's emaciated appearance. Even after a month of Margaret's cooking, he still looked gaunt, and half-starved. It was a huge difference to how he'd looked before his abduction.

Then, he'd been big and stocky. His body had just been starting to show the inevitable signs of middle age. He'd no longer been able to maintain such stringent control of his weight, and other aches and pains had just been starting to appear. Now, there was not an ounce of fat to be found anywhere on him, and she wondered how much that had to do with being regularly starved, rather than being given the right foods with plenty of exercise. Now, she could see his ribs poking out through the pale flesh of his sternum, and the sight turned her stomach.

Bobby hadn't spoken much about the food he'd been dished up whilst in the Centre, but she figured it must have been pretty awful. She had some clue from the reaction he'd had to certain foods. One morning, perhaps a week after their arrival at the estate, they'd walked into the kitchen for breakfast to find the boy, James, making his way through a bowl of steaming porridge. It had been a particularly cold morning, and the idea of hot porridge with honey had appealed greatly to Alex. However, upon turning to Bobby with the intention of making that suggestion to him, she had been brought up short. Bobby had been staring at the bowl of food, almost literally turning green. He'd bolted straight to the nearest bathroom to throw up, and hadn't been able to keep any food at all down for the rest of the day.

Much care had been taken after that to ensure that porridge, and any other foods that were even remotely like anything he would have been served up in the Centre, were kept well out of his sight.

Then, on top of the food issue, there was the cruel regime of physical exercise he'd been forced to undergo. Again, he'd not spoken about it, but Alex had gotten an eyeful when she happened to wander past George's room late one night when he was watching one of the many sim discs from the nine months of Bobby's captivity, and she'd stopped to watch out of curiosity.

The viewer had shown Bobby being subjected to a gruelling barrage of physical trials, until he literally collapsed from sick exhaustion. If that had been the norm, she thought bitterly, then it was no wonder that he looked almost skeletal.

He finally looked up, and she offered him a warm smile as she cross the floor to join him.

"Hey, you. Ready for a dip?"

Even in his obvious reticence, Alex didn't miss the way his eyes flickered over her, taking in the sight of her scantily clad form with appreciation. She couldn't resist teasing him, and nudged him lightly on the arm.

"Like what you see?"

Bobby went beet red, and his gaze dropped to the floor. Laughing softly to reassure him that she wasn't bothered by his checking her out, Alex slipped her arm through his.

"It's okay, Bobby. If I didn't want you to look, I'd be wearing sweats and a jumper."

Though he didn't verbally respond, he did look up slowly once more to meet her gaze. Alex gently smoothed back his hair as the uneased he was feeling finally registered with her.

"Listen," she murmured soothingly, "you don't have to go swimming if you don't want to. It's not compulsory, you know."

"I know," he answered softly. "I do want to. It's just..."

"What?" she pressed when he faltered. "Talk to me, Bobby."

"I don't know," he admitted. His eyes lifted slowly to hers, and she saw the uncertainty and fear of unremembered trauma reflected in them as he struggled to explain. "I feel like there's something about water that I can't quite remember... Maybe a simulation I had to do... It's right at the edge of my memory, and I just can't see it."

She reached up and ran her fingers lightly through his greying hair. He sighed faintly, and leaned into her gentle touch.

"If it's important, you'll remember. Try not to worry, okay?"

"I'm sorry," he murmured, and she answered his apology with a fierce hug.

"Don't be. Now, get up off your ass, Goren. I want to go swimming."

Smiling wryly, Bobby allowed himself to be pulled to his feet, and he followed her from the bedroom.

* * *

When they finally walked into the enclosed area that housed the enormous indoor pool, mostly everyone was already there, and in the water. Emily was busy swimming laps. Deakins was lounging at one end of the pool, watching Mike and Carolyn with open amusement as they kept trying to douse each other. Jarod, James and George were at the other end of the pool, showing marginally less exuberance than the two detectives. The only ones who weren't there were Charles and Margaret.

Dropping her towel on a spare seat, Alex walked over and dipped one foot in to test the temperature. Satisfied with the water's warmth, she sat down on the tiled edge and slid fully into the water. Then, sparing Bobby an encouraging smile, she swam away to where Mike had just lifted a shrieking Carolyn out of the water, only to dump her back in very unceremoniously.

Bobby stood at the edge of the pool for a minute, watching with a small smile as Alex joined Carolyn in retaliating against the older man. A moment later, it was Mike who was left spluttering when both women pounced simultaneously, driving him beneath the surface of the water.

Deakins watched Bobby for nearly a minute before speaking in a low, calm voice.

"C'mon in, Bobby. It's fine."

Whether he was referring to the water, or the situation in general, Bobby didn't know and had no intention of asking him to elaborate. He stood there for a long moment, contemplating jumping into the water, as opposed to sitting down and sliding in as Alex had done. Neither method particularly appealed to him, and the metal ladder on the side would only hurt his still-tender feet.

"There are steps into the pool over on that side," Deakins told him gently, pointing over to the far side. Far from looking embarrassed, as Deakins had thought he might, Bobby instead looked relieved at having an easy way to get into the water.

"Thanks," he murmured, genuinely grateful, and he headed around the pool.

* * *

"Check it out," Mike said softly, having to hold Carolyn off at arm's length as she tried to pounce on him again. Both Carolyn and Alex ceased what they were doing, and looked around to see Bobby descending slowly into the water, via steps that were cut into the pool itself.

He wasn't paying any attention to anyone else. In fact, he didn't seem at that moment to be the slightest bit aware of anyone or anything around him. They continued to watch as he entered the water slowly, up to his waist, an odd mixture of relief and trepidation on his face. He came to a halt at the bottom of the steps, one hand on the edge of the pool as a means of security as well as support while he looked around him with uncertainty.

Leaving George and James, Jarod made his way over to Bobby.

"Are you okay?" he asked quietly and, although Bobby responded with a nod, Jarod noted that he wasn't quite meeting his gaze.

"Sure," Bobby mumbled. "I... I just..."

But he couldn't quite formulate the right words in his mind, let alone vocalise them. All he knew was a deep, unsettling sensation in his gut. There was something... something about water, but he just couldn't remember what.

"Here..."

Bobby's breath caught in his throat as Jarod reached over and gently pried his hand away from the edge of the pool, and led him into deeper water.

"It's okay," Jarod reassured him with a warm smile, at the same time moving slowly back to give Bobby some space. "There's nothing to be afraid of here. Just relax. Enjoy being in the water."

And slowly, as Bobby edged into the deeper water of the pool, he did find himself relaxing. No one attempted to splash him or be in any way rowdy around him, and the water that lapped gently around him was soothing to his nerves. By the time the bottom of the pool dropped away beneath his feet, and he found himself needing to actually swim, he had managed to almost completely forget about his immediate surroundings.

He couldn't swim laps the way Emily was doing, and he wasn't even going to try. His arms, and his shoulder in particular, were still aching too severely to be able to manage. Emily had done what she could for him medically, but he knew that upon returning to New York, he would have to see a specialist and would probably need physiotherapy.

Maybe, he thought as he began to revel in the weightlessness that being in the water afforded him, regular swimming would provide him with a tolerable means of working the injured joint and getting back full mobility. He was willing to try, at least.

He ceased paddling, and looked around slowly as he floated comfortably in the middle of the pool.

The captain had stayed where he was, lounging at the end of the pool and observing everyone with a watchful eye. Emily had ceased swimming laps, and had joined him at the pool's edge. Carolyn and Alex were once more trying to get the best of Mike, while Jarod had rejoined George and James in the far corner.

Out of the way of everyone else, Bobby maneouvred himself over so that he was floating on his back. He stretched himself out as much as possible, before his healing body protested, and then sighed faintly as he felt the tension slowly bleed from his body.

His mind didn't block out the sounds of the others completely, but rather he found himself beginning to pick out odds and ends of the conversations going on around him.

He heard Alex plead and threaten all in the one breath just seconds before a shriek and a loud splash told him that Mike had just dunked her solidly into the water.

He heard James explaining to George a concept of philosophy and psychology that Bobby doubted even the intuitive doctor would understand.

He heard Emily asking Captain Deakins about New York, and what it was like there. She had spent much of her life on the run with her mother, and had never ventured into any of the major cities.

Most of all, though, he could hear the pounding echo of his own heartbeat as he floated.

It was amazing, he reflected distantly, how fine-tuned his hearing had become. He almost laughed. Mike's crack about the Six Million Dollar Man... or, his girlfriend... wasn't all that far off the mark. All he needed to do was focus...

Bobby's blood almost literally froze. Focus... Focus in the water...

And with that, the memory that had been eluding him struck with devastating force.

* * *

"_I can't, Sydney," Bobby insisted as he stared at the water chamber in trepidation. Sydney regarded him with a frown._

"_It's just the Focus Chamber, Bobby. You've enjoyed being in there before."_

_Bobby spared Sydney an incredulous look that the doctor paid no attention to.. _

_Enjoyed it? he wondered. According to who? He kept that thought to himself, though, knowing it would only get him in trouble._

"_I can't. Not today. Sydney, please..."_

_He hated having to beg, but it seemed more and more that it was the only way to make himself heard. Only in debasing and demeaning himself would any of his controllers pay him any heed. Just another method of stripping his dignity and his identity away from him, he thought bitterly._

"_Bobby, I expect you to do this simulation, and the only way you'll be able to do it successfully is if you can fully relax. The chamber will help you to do that. Now, stop trying to stall, and get in."_

"_Sydney, I'm tired," Bobby pleaded. "Mr Raines... He wouldn't let me sleep for nearly three days! He wouldn't let me eat anything..."_

_Sydney didn't glance up from his notes._

"_Well, perhaps if you gave him a little more cooperation, he wouldn't feel it was necessary to deprive you like that."_

_Bobby jerked as though he'd been stung. He couldn't have been more stunned had Sydney gotten up and physically slapped him. He'd expected Sydney to be sympathetic towards him. Apparently, he'd been wrong._

"_Sydney, please," he begged softly in a final effort to win the doctor over. "I'm tired, I'm hungry and I'm hurting. Can't you see that?"_

_Sydney spared him a brief, cool glance, but that was all. Bobby tried again, growing more desperate by the second._

"_If you make me go in that chamber, I don't know exactly what will happen, but I can tell you what **won't** happen. I won't be able to relax, or focus. Sydney, please... Refuge?"_

_Bobby jumped visibly as Sydney slammed his hand down on the desk in an uncharacteristic show of anger._

"_Get in the chamber now, Bobby. I won't ask you again. When you've done the simulation, then we'll see about getting you something to eat. Until then, you will do exactly as I say... unless you **want** to be put in isolation again?"_

_Bobby stood stiffly, staring at Sydney with disappointment and a slow-burning hatred._

"_You're no better than Raines," he said softly. Sydney looked up sharply, frowning at the insulting comparison. Bobby was no longer looking at him, though. Head down and shoulders slumped, he climbed into the chamber and lowered himself into the deep, cold water._

_Floating on his back, he watched as Sydney closed the door over him, effectively blocking all light and leaving him in absolute darkness. A moment later, he heard the dull, metallic thunk of the bolt sliding into place, ensuring that he couldn't let himself out._

_In what seemed now like another lifetime entirely, darkness had been a comfort to him. Not anymore. Now, thanks to Sydney and Raines, the darkness had become something to fear. Trapped in the chamber, fear was all he felt, for he couldn't bring himself to consider himself to be anything but trapped. If Sydney really thought he was going to be able to relax and focus on the simulation, then he was badly mistaken._

_Bobby shut his eyes, even though it seemed a pointless thing to do when he was surrounded by nothing but darkness. He tried to concentrate on anything other than the hunger pangs he was suffering, or the utter exhaustion that threatened to consume him. He tried most of all to ignore the pain he was in from the beatings he'd received over the last few days._

_It wasn't working. The more he tried to relax and stop thinking about it all, the worse it got._

_Bobby drew in a slow breath that was cut off with painful abruptness when the muscles in his arms and legs suddenly cramped, and then locked. A strangled cry of pain tore from Bobby's lips, and echoed horribly inside the chamber as the muscle cramps were rapidly followed by a crippling pain in his gut. _

_He floundered in the water, struggling to regain control of limbs that no longer did what they were supposed to do, and screamed with pain when he tried to make them. Somehow, he didn't know how, but somehow he managed to get one arm out of the water to bang weakly on the metal door in a desperate attempt to get Sydney's attention. _

_He had no way of knowing whether Sydney had heard or not. In the next moment, his entire body spasmed as pain exploded afresh and he sank beneath the surface of the water, no longer able to keep afloat. _

_A new kind of darkness closed around him – cold and suffocating. With his body locked in rigour from the crippling pain of the cramps, Bobby couldn't fight any longer. He came to rest on the floor of the chamber, his eyes half-open and staring into the darkness of the water that surrounded him. He held his breath for as long as he could, but finally his lungs rebelled against the lack of oxygen, and his mouth and throat opened up, allowing water to rush in._

_Bobby's body convulsed once, twice and a third time in a violent seizure. Then, mercifully, he knew no more..._

_

* * *

_

It was Deakins, who realised Bobby was in trouble. From his vantage point, he first noticed Bobby stiffen in the water, and turn out of the floating position. It seemed to him that the detective was having difficulty staying afloat, but he put it down to the fact that Bobby possibly hadn't swum since long before his abduction. Still, he kept a watchful eye on him, ready to act if the situation warranted it.

Seconds later, he realised it did, and Bobby suddenly twisted sharply in the water, and Deakins finally got a look at the panic-stricken expression on his face.

"Mike!" Deakins bellowed, even as he pushed away from the wall.

Mike froze, even as he was reaching for Carolyn to dunk her, and for a split second he crazily thought that Deakins was telling him to stop. But then his gaze went from the captain to the middle of the pool, just in time to see Bobby sink under the water. Swearing loudly, Mike lunged through the water, suddenly not able to move fast enough.

Deakins reached him first, and had to dive under the water to grab him. When they surfaced precious seconds later, Bobby was in a blind panic, struggling with a ferocity that belied his weakened physical condition.

"Goddamnit, Bobby, quit fighting us!" Mike gasped as he tried to get his arm around his friend in order to pull him from the pool.

It took not only Deakins and Mike, but Jarod as well to get Bobby back into the shallow water, and to the safety of the steps. Once there, Alex pushed through all of them and wrapped her arms fiercely around him in a protective embrace. He soon stopped struggling, and collapsed against her, crying pitifully into her shoulder. Alex cradled him to her, at the same time looking to the others in confusion. They returned her look with confused ones of their own. None of them had a clue as to what had triggered this episode. Bobby needed no prompting to talk, though, and he began to speak in a stilted voice as his panic slowly subsided.

"I... I drowned..." Bobby choked out in a stricken voice that was muffled by Alex's shoulder.

"No, pal," Mike tried to reassure him. "We got you. It's okay. We wouldn't let you drown..."

"No," Bobby cut him off, distraught. "Not here... Not now. B... Before. I drowned... He let me drown!"

And then they realised he was talking about an incident that happened while he was at the Centre. Reaching across, Deakins lay a hand gently on Bobby's shoulder, though he took care not to squeeze.

"Do you mean Raines, or Lyle?" he asked. Bobby shuddered violently.

"No. Not them... It was Sydney."

Startled silence met his words. Then, finally, Jarod spoke in a shaken tone.

"No... That's not possible. Sydney wouldn't have..."

"He did!" Bobby snarled, cutting the other man off short and causing him to stumble back a step or two with the force of his anger. "He p... put me in the Focus Chamber when I'd c... come straight off three days of starvation, sleep deprivation and beatings from Raines. He... He wouldn't listen to me when I said I wasn't strong enough to be put in there. He made me go in... He threatened me... Said that if I didn't go in, he'd have me p... put in isolation. I had really bad pain. My muscles cramped and locked, and I couldn't stay afloat... I tried banging on the door, but he ignored it. Then... Then I drowned..."

He broke down again, and Alex's jaw locked as she glared at Jarod.

"It's starting to look like your precious Sydney is as much of a monster as Raines and Lyle."

Jarod flinched, but wisely chose against arguing with her. Instinct warned him that it wouldn't be beneficial to his health, and he had always paid attention to his instincts.

"C'mon, Bobby," Mike murmured, and between him and Alex, they managed to get Bobby to his feet and out of the pool. "Let's go get you dry."

* * *

"That was it, wasn't it?" Alex asked softly as she and Mike helped Bobby to dry himself, and get dressed again. "When you said there was something about water, that was it."

Bobby sat down with a thud on the edge of the bed, and rubbed miserably at his red eyes. Alex sat down next to him and, after a moment's hesitation, Mike sat down on his other side.

"I kept trying to tell myself that Sydney was okay," Bobby told them softly. "That he did actually give a damn about me. But I was wrong. He didn't care. Not really, not about me. All he cared about were the results he could get from me. Even when I said refuge, he just ignored me! That was supposed to be a safe word. If... If I said that, we were supposed to stop! He should have let me stop. But he ignored me! I hate him," Bobby choked out, pressing his pale face into his hands as the tears came in a fresh flood. "I hate him so much... I swear to God, if I ever see him again, I'll kill him..."

Mike and Alex exchanged grim looks over Bobby's head. Each one had the same thought, and Mike voiced that thought with quiet determination.

"Bobby, you won't have to. If that son of a bitch ever comes near you again, _we'll_ kill him for you."

* * *

Just outside the door of Bobby's room, Jarod stood frozen, his face a mask of anxiety as he listened to what was being said. He was finding it almost impossible to believe that Sydney had deliberately allowed Bobby to almost drown. Raines or Lyle, without a doubt, but not Sydney. Worse, the idea that they could even consider kill Sydney was unthinkable to Jarod.

And yet, Bobby's trauma was all too real, and Jarod knew he wouldn't have imagined it. Still, he wondered whether the way Bobby had perceived that incident was, in reality, different to the way it had actually happened. Maybe Sydney hadn't realised just how bad a condition Bobby was really in.

Jarod knew from his own experiences that Sydney was capable of being hard on his charges, but he also believed that Sydney only behaved that way when he knew that he could reasonably expect a better effort than was being given. That, at least, had always been his experience. Sydney had never been hard on him when it wasn't warranted. Perhaps, that had been the case in this instance, but Bobby simply wasn't seeing it from that perspective.

He drew in a long, steadying breath. The more he thought about it, the more he was sure that it was simply a matter of perception. There was one way to know for certain, though, and that was to find and view the disc that showed the actual incident.

Hoping... no, _praying_ that he was right, Jarod headed for George's room to search for the disc that he sincerely hoped would exonerate the man who had effectively raised him of any wrongdoing.

* * *

He got to George's room a few minutes later to discover he was not alone in his idea. George was already there, along with Captain Deakins, Carolyn and Emily, and he was searching through the box of sim discs with clear intent.

"I guess you have the same idea we did," Carolyn murmured. Emily, however, frowned. She knew only too well her brother's strong emotional attachment to Sydney.

"Yes, he does, but not for the same reasons. Jarod, don't you dare try to excuse Sydney. Not this time. What he did to Bobby was unconscienable."

"Let's just look at the disc before we make any judgments," George murmured.

"How can you know which disc it's on?" Deakins wondered. "Aren't they all just labelled by date?"

"They are," George confirmed, "but I know what incident it was now, and I'm pretty sure I know what disc it's on. I watched part of it in my first few days here, just up to the point where Bobby actually got into the chamber. I didn't watch beyond that, and I should have."

After another moment of searching, George finally found the right dis. Without hesitation, he slotted it into the viewer, and let it run.

* * *

"_I can't, Sydney."_

"_It's just the Focus Chamber, Bobby. You've enjoyed being in there before."_

"_I can't. Not today. Sydney, please..."_

"_Bobby, I expect you to do this simulation, and the only way you'll be able to do it successfully is if you can fully relax. The chamber will help you to do that. Now, stop trying to stall, and get in."_

"_Sydney, I'm tired. Mr Raines... He wouldn't let me sleep for nearly three days! He wouldn't let me eat anything..."_

"_Well, perhaps if you gave him a little more cooperation, he wouldn't feel it was necessary to deprive you like that."_

"_Sydney, please. I'm tired, I'm hungry and I'm hurting. Can't you see that?"_

"_If you make me go in that chamber, I don't know exactly what will happen, but I can tell you what **won't** happen. I won't be able to relax, or focus. Sydney, please... Refuge?"_

"_Get in the chamber now, Bobby. I won't ask you again. When you've done the simulation, then we'll see about getting you something to eat. Until then, you will do exactly as I say... unless you **want** to be put in isolation again?"_

"_You're no better than Raines."_

_

* * *

_

"Son of a bitch," Carolyn whispered heatedly as they watched the slightly black and white image of Bobby climbing into the chamber.

Jarod was silent. He was both disturbed by Sydney's apparent lack of concern for Bobby's wellbeing. Even with the image being in black and white, it had been painfully obvious that Bobby was suffering phsyically. It frightened him that Sydney didn't seem to care.

They watched as Sydney closed the door of the chamber, and slid the bolt into place. Deakins looked around at Jarod in horror.

"He locked him in?"

Again, Jarod was silent, and his face pale as he watched the viewer. He didn't ever recall actually being locked inside the chamber by Sydney. He'd always been left to his own devices, and it had been his choice when he climbed out again.

Slowly, their attention returned to the viewer screen. Only a couple of minutes had passed when there was a sudden, dull thump from inside the chamber. It happened just the once, but there was no mistaking it. Bobby had, indeed, banged on the door from the inside. There was also no hope of suggesting that Sydney hadn't heard it, or that he misunderstood the sound. He lifted his head from his work, looked back at the chamber, and then turned back to the camera, speaking in a voice that was filled with thinly veiled irritation.

"_Bobby is becoming increasingly wilful in his attempts to avoid carrying out even the most basic tasks that we require of him. It's my hope that by leaving him inside the Focus Chamber for a prolonged period, it will help him to concentrate on what we expect of him."_

Then, Sydney returned to his work, ignoring the chamber behind him.

"Oh god," Emily whimpered, tears filling her eyes as the minutes slowly ticked by. "How long...?"

Her question was abruptly answered when three newcomers arrived – one of whom Deakins recognised as Miss Parker.

* * *

"_Sydney? Where's the golden boy?"_

_Sydney indicated back over his shoulder._

"_In the Focus Chamber."_

_Silence met his statement. Then, Miss Parker spoke carefully, in a low voice that was void of all sarcasm._

"_You do realise that he came straight back to you after Raines had him in solitary for nearly three days? Without food or sleep? And that he was beaten unconscious twice by Raines' goon squad?"_

_Sydney didn't so much as look up._

"_He needs to learn to cooperate with us. It's for his own good, Parker."_

_Parker blanched visibly at Sydney's response. _

"_Open it up, Sydney. Open up that chamber, and get him out of there. Now!"_

_Sydney rounded on her angrily._

"_This is not your business, Parker! Now, please leave! And take Angelo and Broots with you."_

_

* * *

_

"Which one is Angelo?" Deakins asked, frowning. Jarod spoke in a strained voice.

"The man on the far left."

Deakins hesitated, staring hard at Jarod for a long moment before looking back to the viewer.

* * *

"_Goddamnit, Sydney..."_

"_Parker..."_

_They were both cut off short when Angelo suddenly gave a wail, and loped over to the chamber, scrabbling frantically at the bolt._

"_Angelo, no..." Sydney protested, but the savant had already undone it, and was pulling open the door._

"_Jesus!" Parker burst out as they looked in to discover Bobby floating face-down in the water. "Broots!"_

_Broots didn't hesitate. Climbing over the edge, he dropped down into the water below, pulling Bobby's head out of the water and back onto his shoulder. From there, he maneouvred Bobby's arms up, so that Sydney and Parker were able to grab his wrists and pull him up out of the water._

"_He's not breathing," Parker growled as they lay Bobby out flat on the floor. "Congratulations, Sydney. You may have just killed your pretender."_

_She promptly began to attempt resuscitation, pushing down as hard on Bobby's chest as she could, and forcing air back into his lungs. Sydney, meanwhile, stood back and looked on in numb horror._

_It could have been hours, minutes, or only seconds that passed, but it felt like an eternity before Bobby's body suddenly convulsed, water poured from his tmouth and he began to breathe again. With Broots' help, Parker turned him gently onto his side, allowing him the chance to clear his throat of water. He coughed painfully a few times, shuddering and looking up in dazed confusion as she lay him back down again._

"_Don't talk," she murmured when he opened his mouth to speak. "Just rest."_

_It wasn't a hard command for Bobby to obey. His eyes easily slid shut again as darkness claimed him once more. She watched him for a moment, reassuring herself that he was breathing without difficulty, before getting up to confront Sydney. The psychiatrist, for his part, took a definite step back and held his hands up defensively._

"_I never realised... Parker, I didn't realise..."_

"_No, you just didn't want to see," she snarled. "Just like Raines, and Lyle. I thought you were better than this, Sydney." She paused, drawing in a long breath before speaking again. "I'm going to call for the medical staff now to come and take him up to the medical wing, and I swear to God, if I hear that you **or** Raines has used him for anything at all within the next week..."_

_She trailed off, leaving the threat unspoken, but Sydney's expression told her that he understood. She nodded, satisfied._

"_Don't ever do anything like this to him again, Sydney. Do you hear me? **Ever.**"_

_

* * *

_

George turned off the viewer and sat back, sickened. A glance over his shoulder told him they were all feeling the same way – even Jarod.

"No wonder he panicked," Deakins muttered, his face the colour of ash in the wake of the horrifying footage that they'd just watched. George regarded him grimly.

"I would never advocate it, but I think I understand now why Bobby wants them dead. Even Sydney. Especially Sydney. Bobby trusted him... as much as he could be expected to trust anyone in that place... and he let him down."

"In the worst possible way," Jarod agreed in a strained whisper. He stood there for a long moment, as though torn, before suddenly wheeling around and all-but running from the room.

"This is hard for him," George murmured, with some sympathy. "He sees Sydney as a benevolent figure."

Emily nodded.

"It's hard for him to put Sydney on the same level with those other monsters. But we warned him, when he talked to us about bringing Bobby here. We warned him that he might end up being confronted with some unpleasant truths. He's just going to have to learn to live with knowing that Sydney is just as capable of evil as Raines and Lyle."

Deakins looked back to George questioningly.

"Are you going to talk to Bobby?"

"I will," George confirmed. "But not just yet. Alex and Mike are with him right now, and I think time spent with them will probably be a lot more beneficial than me running in and trying to analyse him. He should be fine."

* * *

Jarod didn't stop until he was outside, and once he was outside, he kept walking until he was well away from the house. Then, finally, he pulled out his cell phone and dialled a memorised number with trembling fingers.

It was answered after several rings.

"_Hello?_"

For a split second, Jarod couldn't speak. He could barely even breathe, his rage was so great. After a moment of silence, the voice spoke again.

"_Hello, is there anyone there?_"

Jarod sucked in a long breath, and spoke hoarsely.

"I trusted you. Bobby trusted you!"

"_Jarod? Is that you?_"

"Yes, it's me, Sydney."

"_What are you doing? They could be tracing this call!_"

"Who is _they_, Sydney?"

"_The Centre, of course! You might have destroyed the building in Blue Cove, but it has other bases of operation! You, of all people, should know that!_"

"Relax, Sydney," Jarod said flatly. "Even if they had the technology to follow this particular trace, I won't be on long enough for them to complete it."

Silence met his statement. Then, Sydney spoke slowly.

"_What's wrong, Jarod?_"

"What's wrong, is that I trusted you to do everything you could to protect Bobby, and instead, you nearly killed him!"

Again, silence.

"_I don't know_..."

"Don't," Jarod snarled. "Don't say you don't know what I'm talking about."

"_But I don't!_" Sydney protested. "_Jarod, please_..."

"Refuge," Jarod said, his voice taking on a guttural tone, and Sydney faltered.

"_What_..."

"You heard me."

"_Yes... But I don't know what you mean_..."

"It was our safe word. You taught it to me and to Bobby, and you promised us that we only had to say it, and you'd put a stop to whatever we were doing. You promised us that you would!"

"_And I did..._"

"No. When Bobby begged you not to put him in the Focus Chamber, you ignored him. And when he used the safe word as a last resort, you threatened him. How could you do that to him? Damn it, Sydney, he nearly died because of you!"

The silence that followed was palpable, and when Sydney finally spoke again, his voice was heavy with guilt.

"_I'm sorry._"

"That's not good enough this time, Sydney."

"_It's all I can offer, Jarod. Perhaps, in the future, I'll have the opportunity to speak to Bobby, face to face, and_..."

"No," Jarod said abruptly. "Believe me, Sydney. You don't ever want to see Bobby again."

"_Why is that, Jarod?_"

Jarod let out his breath in a long, hissing rush.

"Because he's sworn that if he ever sees you again, he'll kill you."

* * *

Jarod arrived back in the house nearly an hour later, after doing some serious contemplation. He walked back into the family room to find all of them sitting there in silence. All, he noted, except for Bobby, Deakins and George.

"What's happening?" he asked, even though a fairly large part of him didn't really want to know.

"We're not sure," Margaret answered, where she sat beside her husband. "Bobby asked to speak to Jim and George alone. We don't know why yet."

Jarod glanced around, taking in the concerned looks on the faces of those around him with some disconcertment. Just briefly, he considered going and finding them, and asking directly what was going on. A small part of him feared Bobby was talking to them about actively seeking out Raines, Lyle and Sydney, and killing them, and as angry as he was at Sydney right then, he still didn't care to see him killed.

In the end, though, he could do nothing but sit and wait, like the rest of them.

* * *

Bobby, Deakins and George returned to the family room nearly a half an hour later, and while Bobby appeared to be particularly pale, there was a fresh determination in his appearance. He walked over without saying a word, and sat down next to Alex, who promptly slipped her arms around his waist and pulled him close to her. A faint sigh escaped him as he returned the embrace, and rested his head on her slim shoulder, shutting his eyes in weary contentment.

Deakins, however, stayed standing, with the obvious intent of addressing everyone.

"After talking with Dr Huang and myself, Bobby has come to a decision. He wants to go home to New York."

Margaret looked over at Bobby, startled.

"Sweetheart, are you sure you're ready?"

Bobby lifted his head from Alex's shoulder, and looked Margaret directly in the eye, without hesitation.

"I'm as ready as I can ever hope to be. I know it might not seem like it, after what happened earlier in the pool... but that took me by surprise. And anyway, it won't matter. I know I'll have support."

"You will," Mike confirmed vehemently. "Always, pal."

"I appreciate everything you've done for me," Bobby went on quietly, and this time his words were directed not only at Margaret, but at Charles, Emily and Jarod as well. "I really do... But I want to go home. I think I've gone as far as I can here. I... I _need_ to go home."

"I hate to be the one to put a dampener on your determination, Bobby," Charles said quietly, "but you do understand that they'll try to take you again? As soon as they know you're back in New York, they will try again."

"And this time, we'll be ready," Deakins stated firmly. "We will not allow them to take him again." He paused, and then added softly, vehemently, "We'll shed blood before we let it happen again."

Nervous silence permeated the room. Then, Emily rose up and walked over, dropping into a crouch in front of Bobby.

"I believe you'll be okay, Bobby." She reached up to cup his cheek in a tender gesture. "I know you'll be okay."

Bobby gently extricated himself from Alex's arms, and leaned forward into Emily's embrace.

"Thankyou," he whispered.

Emily withdrew after a moment, and Margaret came over.

"Just remember, you'll always have a safe haven to run to with us, if you ever need it. But I agree with Emily. I think you're going to be just fine." She leaned down and hugged him fiercely. "Sweet boy..."

Bobby returned her hug with enthusiasm, and felt tears stinging his eyes once more.

"Thankyou, for everything," he murmured. As she straightened up, Margaret kissed him tenderly on the forehead.

"The pleasure was ours, my love."

As Margaret retreated, Jarod came forward, and Bobby rose up to meet him.

"Can I talk to you?" Jarod asked softly. "Alone?"

Bobby hesitated for just a moment before nodding in acquiescence, and followed Jarod from the room.

* * *

"You think I'm making a mistake," Bobby guessed as Jarod led him outside. Jarod paused, considering that before answering.

"That's not my judgment to make," Jarod answered. "But I admire that you have the courage to go back."

"Knowing that they'll probably come after me again?"

Jarod grimaced, and chose not to answer that.

"I wanted to talk to you... about Sydney."

Bobby slowed to a halt, his expression darkening.

"If you want me to be sympathetic towards him..."

"No," Jarod interrupted quickly. "No, I don't. I understand why you hate him, Bobby. I really do. But please... Think about it carefully before you just decide you want to kill him on sight."

Confusion flickered across Bobby's face, and then understanding dawned.

"You think he'll try to contact me, don't you?"

Jarod tried to smile, and couldn't quite manage it.

"He's a psychiatrist, Bobby. He can't help himself. Look, all I'm asking is that you don't let your emotions rule your mind. Raines and Lyle may try to take you back, but Sydney won't."

"You can't say that with any certainty," Bobby shot back, and Jarod had to concede to that.

"Maybe I can't, but I believe it anyway. Please... will you trust me? If you do see him, please don't hurt him."

Bobby sighed heavily, and turned away from Jarod.

"I can't say for sure what I'll be likely to do if I ever see him, Jarod. I just hope he stays away... for his own sake. Because even if I decide not to kill him, I can't say the same for Alex and Mike. _They_ will, without hesitating."

"I understand. If... If I ever talk to him, I'll warn him off."

Bobby paused, and then ducked to the side a little to catch Jarod's eye.

"But... you already have, haven't you?"

Jarod blanched, and promptly reddened at the realisation he'd been caught out. Bobby chuckled softly.

"It's okay, Jarod. I get it. I don't blame you for the attachment you have to him. He... He did raise you, after all. But I need you to understand why I feel the way I do about him."

"I do," Jarod confirmed. He regarded Bobby thoughfully. "I have to admit... I'm a little jealous."

The admission surprised Bobby greatly.

"Of what?"

"That you have something to go back to. I finally have what I wanted. I have my family... But I still don't have my own identity. You do still have that. They tried to take it from you, and they failed."

Bobby smiled faintly.

"Yeah," he murmured in soft agreement.

"I'll stay in touch," Jarod told him, switching subjects with a practised smoothness. "Email..."

Bobby didn't bother to query how safe that was. He knew Jarod would never allow himself to be tracked through the internet... At least, not unless he wanted it to happen.

"Listen, Jarod..."

But he suddenly couldn't think of anything to say. Jarod hesitated, and then stepped in and threw his arms around Bobby. It only took a moment for the gesture to be returned, with interest.

"Do you remember what you told me when we first met?" Bobby asked, his voice slightly muffled by Jarod's sweater.

"You might need to refresh my memory," Jarod remarked wryly. Bobby's smile widened, and he pulled back a little.

"You said we could be brothers. And for five years, we were. I knew I could rely on you when there was no one else. You... You didn't let me down, Jarod."

Sharp pain cut through Jarod's heart, and he searched Bobby's eyes for any sign of insincerity, but there was none.

"Thankyou, Bobby," Jarod murmured, pulling Bobby to him for another hug. "Good luck... but I don't think you'll be needing it."

Again, Bobby smiled as he thought of the friends that he knew would be there to support him.

"No," he whispered in agreement. "But it won't hurt all the same."

* * *

_tbc..._


	29. Too Close For Comfort

A/N: _Apparently the muse didn't want to jump immediately to New York. She wanted more drama before Bobby gets to go home._

_Again, huge thanks to bammi1 for helping me to formulate this chapter, and the ideas within. We have been putting our sadistic minds together to come up with new and inventive means of tormenting Bobby, and I must say that it's been very, **very** productive._

_And again, not the last chapter. Sooooooooo not the last chapter..._

_

* * *

_

It was finally decided that they would stay until the end of the week, giving Jarod sufficient time to arrange safe transport for them back to New York. None of them objected, least of all Bobby. He took advantage of the extra bit of time, and over the next few days he was frequently sighted wandering alone around the estate. Alex had asked him initially whether he wanted company, and he'd sheepishly told her no, that he needed to be able to start moving around independently. She conceded to that without argument. He was right. He did need to be able to have some degree of independence, or the confidence that he'd fought so hard to regain would only be sapped away once more.

Their final day at the estate finally arrived and, sorry though they were to leave the place that had provided them all with a safe haven, they were equally anxious to return home. It was with that thought in mind that an issue that had not yet been discussed finally occurred to Carolyn, and she raised it with Alex and Mike as they loaded their bags into a pile by the front door.

"Where's he going to live?"

"Bobby, do you mean?" Mike asked, Carolyn nodded.

"Yes. We can't just let him go home alone to his apartment..."

"We can't let him go back there at all," Alex murmured, suddenly realising what Carolyn was getting at. "If they do try to come for him, that'll be one of the first places they try."

"So, any suggestions?" Mike wondered, and even as he spoke, he knew it was an idiotic thing to say.

"He'll live with me," Alex stated firmly. She paused, and then smiled faintly, realising the assumption she was jumping to. "At least, if that's what he wants to do, he can."

"I wouldn't worry too much about it, Alex," Mike assured her. "I don't think Bobby's going to have any objection to staying with you. But it might be better if you both stay in his apartment, and not your house."

Carolyn nodded in agreement, seeing where Mike was headed.

"He's right, Alex. We could rig up security systems at his apartment that we wouldn't be able to at your house."

"Plus, you'v egot the added security of it being a big apartment building," Mike pointed out. "The other tenants... Did Bobby get along okay with them?"

Alex nodded slowly.

"Uh... Yes, I think so. At least, if he did have any problems with anyone there, he never said anything to me about it. Mike, what are you getting at?"

"I was just thinking that we could clue the other tenants in his building in to what's going on, and set it up so that they can contact us. You know, if they see anyone sniffing around who doesn't belong there, or if anyone starts asking questions about Bobby."

"Or," Carolyn added in a subdued voice, "if Raines, Lyle or Sydney make an appearance."

"Exactly," Mike agreed. Alex considered that, and had to concede that it was a sound idea. And, she certainly didn't mind forgoing the comforts of her own home – at least until he was ready to be on his own once more.

* * *

"Alex and Bobby?" Deakins echoed when Mike raised the subject with him later that morning out on the patio outside the family room. "Living together? Do you know how much fun I'm going to have keep that one under wraps from the brass?"

"For security purposes," Mike suggested, and the captain smirked.

"I don't believe that any more than you do, Mike. At least, not for it being the sole reason. But I take it that no one's thought to discuss that with Bobby as yet?"

"I doubt it," Mike murmured. "I mean, we'd already talking about getting a specialised security system installed in his apartment, and the plan was for Bobby to stay with Alex while that was done... Actually, I overheard her talking to Bobby yesterday, and I think she's planning on taking him to her parents' home. Something about it being less obvious, and pretty low key."

Deakins nodded thoughtfully.

"That's a good idea. There'll be someone there to watch out for him during the day. He won't be able to go back to work immediately, but you, Carolyn, Alex and I will have to. If he's at John and Helen's place, we can be sure he'll be properly looked after."

"We're going to have to get him checked out fully, too," Mike pointed out. "That shoulder of his hasn't fully healed, and he won't be approved for active duty until it has."

"He'll probably need some degree of physio," Deakins mused. "Ordinarily, I would have said he'd hate it, but I have a feeling he'll be happy to cooperate with anything that he needs to in order to get the okay to go back to work. But maybe if John or Helen takes him, he'll be less likely to put up an argument."

"That's sneaky," Mike said, and Deakins nodded, unashamed.

"Yes. It is. But I'll do anything I need to do to make sure the right decisions are made this time. And that includes anything it takes to get Bobby back to work."

Mike sighed faintly, looking around with a mixture of regret and relief.

"I'll be glad to be home, but I'll miss this place, too."

"We have an open invitation to come back any time," Deakins reminded him. "That offer wasn't exclusively for Bobby." He paused, realising that he hadn't seen Bobby all morning. "Where is Bobby, anyway? Have you seen him?"

Mike shook his head.

"No. He said he was going for a walk, and that he'd be back at lunch time. He's got guts, Captain. It scares the hell out of him, going outside on his own like that, but he makes himself do it anyway."

Deakins nodded.

"He has to, Mike. As much as we'd like to, we won't be able to shelter him forever when we get back home. Sooner or later, he's going to find himself in a situation where he's on his own. He's trying to teach himself to cope now, while there's still a chance at easing himself back into things. And yes, I admire him for it, too."

"You really think he's going to be okay?" Mike wondered, and there was a hint of uncertainty in his tone that Deakins couldn't miss. The captain smiled faintly, and clapped Mike on the shoulder.

"I'm sure of it."

* * *

When Bobby left for a walk that morning, he'd honestly had no intention of going any further than the outer wall of Margaret's garden. That was the furthest he'd gone on any one day, on his own. A number of times he'd stood at the gate, and contemplated going further, but ultimately his nerves got the better of him, and he decided against it.

That particular day must have been different, somehow. He would later try to understand what had possessed him to do what he did, but he would never be able to come up with an answer. At least, not one that satisfied him in any way. All he knew was that when he started walking, he'd intended on a pleasant walk around the outside of the house, and through the garden. When he finally pulled his mind back to the present, away from the many thoughts that had occupied him, he found himself on a road, and well out of sight of the estate.

For a minute, he panicked, fearing he was lost. But no; as he regained his equilibrium, Bobby realised he was on the road that led directly from the estate to the nearby village. He'd been there just once, since the day that James had finally coaxed him outside. It had been meant as a pleasurable outing, but his state of mind at the time hadn't been so great. As a result, he hadn't enjoyed the short journey away from the estate, and had spent most of the time huddled in fear in the car.

Maybe, he thought, this time he _could_ enjoy it.

Making up his mind, he came to the crest of the hill, and found himself looking down at the village. He'd come even further than he realised bemusedly. After a moment's hesitation, with just a brief glance back over his shoulder, Bobby headed on down into the village.

* * *

It was a lively place, Bobby mused as he wandered slowly along the road that cut straight through the centre of the village. Lively and colourful. The facades of the shops were decked out in all manner of bright coloured streamers and balloons, and most had stalls set up out the front, with various wares for sale. People were everywhere, cheerful and friendly.

He stopped a child on the path, and asked if there was some sort of celebration happening, and was enthusiastically told that it was the birthday of the founder of the village, and that they always celebrated on that day. Then, the child continued on his way, and so did Bobby.

He didn't venture into any of the shops. He had no money, and saw no point in going in to look. Especially when he knew he was leaving the very next day. He was, however, content to just wander, and observe at his own leisure. That was something he'd not been able to do for a long time, and he was actually enjoying himself.

He came to the end of the row of shops on one side, and crossed over to the other side. As happy as he was to be going home to New York, he would also miss this place, and he resolved then and there that he would come back some time.

He was perhaps halfway back along when he stopped to admire a model train display in the window of a toy shop. It was an exquisitely designed model of a mountain village, with the train – a miniature steamer – running around its circumference.

Smiling at the simple pleasure the sight induced in him, Bobby watched the train make a couple more circuits, and then straightened back up to continue on his way. An instant later, his smile dropped away like a rock as his eyes locked onto the reflection that was immediately behind him. Wave after wave of icy cold panic crashed down over him, leaving him almost paralysed with fear.

"Hey, Bobby," Lyle said with a distinct sneer. "Long time, no see. How's it going, pal?"

Bobby stood frozen, not daring to move, and hardly daring to breathe. After a long moment in that stalemate, Lyle took a slight step back and indicated for Bobby to turn around, which he did very slowly. It was all he could do to stay upright as he came face to face with his tormentor once more.

"H... How...?"

It was all he could get out. Pure terror had all but robbed him of his voice. Lyle chuckled softly, delighted at the effect his presence was having on Bobby.

"How did I find you? It was easier than you know, my friend. Although, granted, it took longer because your buddies blew up our little hideaway in Blue Cove. But here we are, nonetheless. So, Bobby, are you ready to go home?"

Somehow, Bobby found his voice in the midst of his pounding, racing heartbeat, and the waves of panic that were still swamping him.

"I'm not going anywhere with you!"

Abruptly, he felt something pressing into his gut, and he looked down to see the muzzle of a gun. Bobby snorted derisively.

"What, you're going to shoot me? Fine, go ahead, you psychotic bastard. I'd rather be shot dead than go back to the Centre."

Lyle, however, smiled cruelly.

"I'm not going to shoot you, Bobby." He paused, glancing around thoughtfully before nodding towards a couple of children playing innocently nearby. "But I _will_ shoot them. It's your choice."

Bobby felt suddenly light-headed and sick, unable to believe it was happening again, and as much as he wanted to make a break for it, he dared not risk innocent lives. To escape Lyle at the cost of a child's life would destroy him as surely as any of Raines' or Lyle's chosen methods of torment.

Lyle saw acquiescence in Bobby's eyes, and he grinned at his perceived triumph.

"Very smart, Bobby. Very wise decision. Now, let's go."

* * *

Bobby found himself being hustled to a car not too far away. Lyle unlocked it, but before he pushed Bobby in, he took the precaution of handcuffing his wrists in front of him.

"No funny business, now," Lyle warned him mockingly as he turned the car onto the road and headed away from the village. He paused, glancing at Bobby in amusement. "You're looking good, Bobby. This country air must agree with you."

Bobby said nothing, instead staring out the window as the scenery swept past, carrying him further and further away with every passing moment from Alex... from Mike... from everyone who cared about him.

"It'll be fine, Bobby," Lyle told him. "You'll be back where you're supposed to be very soon. And, I guarantee that you won't be... allowed to stray again." He paused, and then grinned. "Mr Raines is really looking forward to seeing you again."

Bobby didn't react, didn't even spare him a glance. Lyle thought it over for a long moment before trying again.

"So is Brigitte."

There was no way Bobby could conceal his reaction to that. He went rigid where he sat, and his breath caught audibly as he struggled to stay calm. Lyle chuckled cruelly.

"Oh, yeah. She _really_ missed you, my friend."

In that moment, the fear that Bobby was experiencing subsided rapidly, to be replaced with a white hot rage. In that instant, he decided he was not going to submit, and allow himself to be taken again. Even if it cost him his life, he would not go back to the Centre.

With an angry snarl, Bobby suddenly lunged across, slamming his body weight into Lyle and momentarily pinning him to the door of the vehicle. The car fish-tailed wildly as Lyle fought against Bobby, to regain control. Then, at the same moment that Lyle stomped on the brake to bring the speeding car to a halt, Bobby grabbed the steering wheel and jerked it towards himself as hard as he could.

The result was as spectacular as it was devastating.

The car started to turn hard to the right and, as it turned, both wheels on the right hand side lifted off the ground. For a split second, the car seemed to suspended there, tilted to the side on just two wheels. Then it became airborne, flipping twice in the air before hitting solid ground.

The vehicle rolled several times before its momentum slowed and it finally came to a halt, upside down, in the middle of the road. There it sat, silent and still, with no sign of life from the occupants within.

Minutes passed before a hand finally appeared in the front passenger window, weakly pushing out what remained of the window pane. A second hand appeared, handcuffed to the first, and a moment later, Bobby's head came into sight as he dragged himself slowly and painfully from the wreckage that had once been a motor vehicle.

A sob of pain escaped him as pain flared up afresh in his shoulder, but he didn't stop until he was completely free of the wreckage. There he sat on the asphalt road, drawing in shallow, painful breaths, each one setting his chest on fire. Broken ribs, he thought distantly. He was sure he had at least one broken rib, maybe more. As he came back to reality and began to check himself over, though, he became sure that he had no other broken bones. His head hurt like hell, though, and so did his bad shoulder. But no broken legs, and no broken arms.

He couldn't see Lyle inside the car from where he was sitting on the road, and he had no intention of moving in for a closer look. Maybe the son of a bitch was dead... More probably not... But he was in no condition to finish the job if he wasn't dead. On the other hand... His gaze went down to his handcuffed wrists. The key, he suspected, was in Lyle's pocket.

Bobby grimaced, instantly deciding it just wasn't worth the risk. He'd find another way to lose the cuffs.

Struggling to get a grip on the pain that threatened to swamp him, Bobby got unsteadily to his feet and, with a last look at the wrecked vehicle, he stumbled away up the road.

* * *

_Some hours later_

"It's definite," Charles said grimly when they all came back together after searching the house and the surrounding grounds. "He's nowhere on the estate."

"So what now?" Carolyn asked softly. Silence met her question as they all leapt to the most obvious conclusion. Alex was the first to react verbally.

"No. No! I won't accept that. He... He just went for a long walk, that's all. He'll be back any minute..."

"I'm with Alex," Deakins agreed. "I think we should at least be checking the immediate area outside the estate before we jump to conclusions."

"That's not unreasonable, Charles," Margaret pointed out, and he conceded with a nod.

"All right. We'll take the cars and check the roads outside the estate. Say, as far as the village?"

Jarod nodded.

"Let's go."

* * *

It was nearing early evening when the searchers returned, luckless and dejected. There had been no sign of Bobby anywhere, and by now they all suspected the worst.

"How?" Emily was asking as they filed back inside. "How did they find him? They never knew about this place!"

"I don't know, and it doesn't matter," Charles said heavily. "The point is, we've lost him. They'll never let down their guard again. We'll never get him back."

A choked sob came from behind him, and he stumbled a little as Alex shoved past him and ran for her room. Cursing softly, Mike hurried after her, not caring to leave her alone. Several pairs of eyes turned to Charles who, in turn, at least had the decency to look guilty.

"I'm sorry," he said, "but I can't see the point in deluding ourselves. They won't allow us another chance to take him back. It's as simple as that."

"It's never that simple," Jarod snapped. "And I won't let them get away with this. I _will_ find out where they've taken him this time, and I _will _get him back. I swear it."

* * *

Alex heard Mike coming after her, but didn't stop, even when she heard him calling to her. Right then, the belief that they had lost Bobby once more to the Centre was too much to take and she didn't want to face anyone or anything. She reached her room and slipped inside, shutting and locking the door seconds before Mike got there. He knocked loudly, begging her not to shut herself away, and to let him in, but she paid him no heed.

Walking over, she dropped onto the bed, buried her face in her arms and gave in to her grief.

* * *

Outside her door, Mike stood helplessly as he listened to the sounds of her distraught sobs. Short of breaking the door in, though, he had no way to reach her, and he wasn't quite prepared to go to those lengths yet. She would eventually let him in, he decided. It was just going to be a matter of giving her time, and a lot of it.

Shaking his head, Mike turned away and began to walk back down the hallway, trying to grasp the horrible truth in his own mind that Bobby had fallen victim to the Centre once more. He was just passing Bobby's room when a thin bar of light underneath the ensuite door caught his attention. Puzzled, he ventured into the room and over to the door, and hesitated only a moment before throwing it open.

The sight that met him left him speechless. Bobby was there, sitting in the bath and gingerly bathing several open cuts on his arms and chest. His face was caked with blood, and he looked like he was in severe pain, but it _was_ him.

"Bobby?" Mike burst out as Bobby stared up at him in surprise. "Where the _hell_ have you been?"

Bobby swallowed hard.

"I... I'm sorry..."

For an uncomfortable moment, it looked to Mike like Bobby was about to start crying, but the tears didn't come. Then, as the haze faded from Mike's eyes, he finally noticed the physical state Bobby was in.

"Damn... What happened to you?" he asked anxiously, dropping into a crouch beside the tub. "Man, you look like you got hit by a bus."

Bobby drew in an unsteady breath.

"It was Lyle."

Mike froze.

"Lyle? That psycho fuck from the Centre?"

Bobby started to answer, but Mike cut him off.

"Hang on. Before you say anything, I've gotta let everyone know you're here. They're all in a panic, think you've been taken again. And Alex... I've gotta tell her! Hang on..."

Scrambling to his feet, Mike almost fell in his rush to leave the room. He went first to Alex's door, and banged hard on it.

"Go away, Mike!" came her muffled voice from within.

"Alex, open the friggin' door! Bobby's here!"

There was a moment of silence, and then the bedroom door was yanked open so hard and fast that Mike nearly fell into the room.

"What?" Alex demanded. "Mike, if you're joking..."

"I'm not," he told her fiercely. "He's in the bath, in his ensuite. He said he had a run-in with Lyle, and I believe it from how he looks. Go see to him, okay? I'll let everyone else know that he's safe."

Mike hurried off to do so without waiting for Alex to respond. She didn't hesitate, but hurried into Bobby's room to see for herself that he was safe.

* * *

The group had migrated into the family room, and a heavy silence now blanketed the room. No one knew what to do or say, and it threatened to rip them all apart. Deakins was just contemplating what to say when Mike flew into the room, eyes wide and gasping for breath.

"He's here! He's safe!"

Margaret took a slow step forward.

"Bobby?"

Mike bit back a powerful urge to make a sarcastic remark, and instead nodded eagerly.

"Yes!" He paused, taking a breath and trying to get a grip on his enthusiasm, because what he had to say next was going to flatten them all. "He said he had a run-in with Lyle."

Again, silence fell. Then, finally, Deakins spoke in a tense voice.

"Where is he, Mike?"

"In the bath, in his ensuite. He looks pretty badly beaten up." He looked over at Emily. "You might need to take a look at him, Em."

Emily nodded, already heading for the door.

"I'll go right away. Everyone, wait here. Alex and I will bring him in here when we're done."

"My god," Margaret whispered as she dropped heavily into her chair. "_That_ was a fright none of us needed."

Deakins looked grim.

"It settles it, though. We have to leave first thing tomorrow. They know where he is, now."

"Forget about that," Charles said. "I think we need to get you folks out of here tonight."

"Don't jump the gun," Margaret told them with a frown. "Let's be patient, and at least wait to hear what Bobby has to say before we go into panic stations. All right?"

Deakins and Charles exchanged grim looks for a long moment before they both nodded in agreement.

"All right," Deakins agreed quietly for the both of them.

* * *

Bobby was just climbing awkwardly out of the bath when Alex came in. She stood staring at him for a long moment before falling towards him and throwing her arms around his upper body.

"Don't you _ever_ do anything like this again!" she choked out. Bobby hugged her back with his good arm, trying to ignore the fiery pain in his chest from the way she was squeezing him. Finally, though, he couldn't fight it any longer, and spoke in a rasping whisper.

"A... Alex... Please... My ribs..."

She pulled back quickly, and horror filled her eyes as she stared at the massive bruising that was forming all over his chest.

"Oh my god..." Then her gaze swept over the rest of him. "Bobby, what happened? Mike said it was Lyle..."

Bobby nodded, wincing a little at the pain that shot through his skull at the simple gesture.

"It was. He... He found me. He tried to take me again."

She picked up the wash cloth and gently began dabbing it at his face to clean away the blood.

"Well, it looks like you put up one hell of a fight. Is Lyle dead?"

"I don't know," Bobby mumbled, his gaze dropping. "Probably not. I decided not to wait around to find out."

"Okay," Alex murmured. "Don't worry about it now. The point is, he didn't get you."

Footsteps alerted them to a new presence, and they both looked up as Emily came in. She paused, and winced at the sight of his chest.

"Okay," she said as she set her bag on the bench space and opened it up. "Let's see what we need here..."

"Uh... Does anyone mind if I put some pants on?" Bobby asked, blushing red despite knowing full well that both Alex and Emily had both seen him naked more than once since his arrival at the estate. Emily smiled wryly.

"Sure. Sorry. We're just so relieved that you're safe..."

"So I keep hearing," Bobby retorted as he pulled on a pair of boxers, and sweatpants, and then allowed himself to be ushered back into his bedroom and seated on his bed.

There was silence as Emily checked him over. For the most part, it seemed to be bad bruising and lacerations, but no broken bones. Even the pain in his shoulder wasn't as bad as it had been at the time of the crash. When she got to his chest, though, it was all he could not to scream in pain. Emily frowned deeply as she ran her fingertips lightly over the bruised flesh, pausing to press carefully in key places.

"I'm sorry, Bobby," she murmured. "I have to do this, though. But I think you've been lucky. I don't think you've got any broken ribs. Cracked, maybe, but not broken. You'll have to have x-rays done to know for sure, but I really don't think any have been broken."

Bobby sighed faintly as she ended her examination and moved back a little.

"Thank God," he mumbled, shuddering a little at the memory of the car flipping through the air whilst he and Lyle were still inside. Emily eyed him critically.

"You definitely took a battering, though. How much are you hurting?"

"A lot," he admitted. Emily nodded and delved into her bag, producing a small bottle from which she removed two pills.

"Here," she told him, pressing them into his hand. "Take those. They'll take the edge off the pain without making you drowsy."

He took the pills without protest, a testament in itself to how much he was hurting right then. Between Alex and Emily, they were able to get a sweater over his head, and then Emily urged him gently to his feet.

"C'mon out to the family room. You can tell everyone together just what happened."

* * *

Eyes that were filled with question met them when they emerged into the family room. Deakins got up and walked over, eyeing Bobby with concern.

"You look like you've been in a train wreck, Bobby."

"Ironically, you're not far off the mark," Bobby answered ruefully. He sat down gingerly in a vacant chair, and let his breath out slowly before speaking. "I'm sorry for scaring everyone... but in my defense, I didn't do it deliberately."

"We'll kick your ass later," Mike told him with a smile. "Just tell us what happened, buddy."

Bobby nodded and, after taking a moment to gather his thoughts, he told them what had happened.

"I only meant to walk to the end of the garden," he explained. "I don't even know how I ended up as far away as I did. All I know is that suddenly I was at the top of the hill before the road comes to the village. I decided to go down and look around. I... I was feeling okay about it... about being out on my own like that. I looked around for a bit, and I stopped to look at a model train set. Wh... When I looked up again... He was there. Lyle was there... right behind me. He had a gun, and I told him..."

Bobby faltered, his eyes flickering upwards to Alex, who was sitting on the arm rest beside him. She shifted closer, and smoothed his wayward curls back.

"Just say it, Bobby."

He sighed faintly, but conceded.

"I told him to go ahead and shoot me, because I'd rather be shot dead than go back to the Centre."

He thought he detected the slightest of change in the grip of Alex's hand on his head, but she said nothing. After a moment, he went on quietly.

"Lyle said he wouldn't shoot me. He... He threatened to shoot some kids that were nearby if I didn't go with him. I didn't have a choice, I had to go. I couldn't let him shoot those kids."

"He would have done it, too," Jarod said softly. Bobby nodded.

"I know. I wasn't going to call his bluff. I already tried that... and lost. He took me to a car... handcuffed me... but he handcuffed my wrists in front of me, not behind my back. Then he put me in the car, and we were driving... away from the village..." Bobby paused, trembling slightly at the memories. "I decided I couldn't let him take me... so I pushed him into the door, and then I grabbed the steering wheel and jerked it towards me. The car flipped, and rolled... I know I blacked out, and when I woke up, the car was upside down on the road. Lyle was next to me. He was unconscious. I crawled out of the car, and managed to get up and run. I... I know I could have done something about Lyle then... but I just wasn't strong enough. And, I was hurting..."

"How did you get out of the handcuffs?" Emily asked, leaning in closer to get a look at his bruised wrists.

"Broke them on a rock," Bobby answered. "Took me nearly half and hour, and I thought I'd broken my wrist at one point, but I got them off. I... I'm sorry..."

"It's okay, Bobby," Deakins assured him. "When you ran, where did you go?"

"I headed back here," Bobby answered. "But it took me so long because I went right around the village, so no one would see me."

"Honey, why?" Margaret asked in confusion. "You only had to go and talk to someone, and they would have brought you back here."

Bobby, however, looked less than certain.

"I... I don't know about that. How did he find me here? Someone must have said something."

"The boy's right," Charles said soberly. "I don't believe Lyle could have just shown up here by chance. This place has been a perfectly kept secret for six years. There is no reason why they would suddenly discover it now, unless someone said something. That just settles it, that we really do need to get you folks out tonight."

"Hang on a second," Mike cut in. "Bobby, when did this happen?"

"Uh... around eleven this morning, I think."

Mike looked around at the gathered group.

"If that was a planned Centre attack, and they knew about this place specifically, then wouldn't they have had operatives all over here by now?"

"Yes," Jarod confirmed. "They would have. So, somehow, they knew Bobby was in the village, but they can't know exactly where he's staying. For all we know, they think he was holed up somewhere in the actual village itself."

"We still can't afford to waste time, though," Deakins said. "The sooner we get home now, the better."

Charles stood up.

"I'll get the van out and ready. We'll have one last meal together, and then we'll leave for the airport as soon as it gets dark. I believe Jarod's got a flight organised for you."

Jarod nodded.

"A friend of mine offered me use of his private jet. I've got it on standby, ready to go as soon as we get there. It'll be a straight flight, all the way back to New York."

"Sounds good," Bobby murmured gratefully. Margaret rose up.

"I'd better go and see about dinner, then."

Soon, only Deakins, Alex, Mike and Carolyn were left in the room, with Bobby.

"Are you okay?" Deakins asked in concern. Bobby hesitated in answering. Physically, perhaps not. Emotionally and mentally...? That was another matter.

"I got away," he said softly, simply. He raised his eyes to meet Deakins'. "I think I'm okay."

Alex leaned down and kissed him gently on the temple.

"You are okay. And by tomorrow, you'll be even better. By then, we'll all be home."

Bobby nodded, and sighed as she drew him in to lean against her.

"Home," he echoed softly, wistfully, wishing that he could somehow convey to them all just what a foreign concept 'home' had become. He was happy and grateful to finally be returning to New York, but a tiny voice deep inside whispered that it would be a long time before he would be comfortable again with the concept of home.

* * *

_tbc..._


	30. Welcome Home

Bobby leaned back, shutting his eyes as the jet took off from a private air strip a few miles outside Thunder Bay. The journey in the van from the estate to the air strip had been unsettling for them all, as they had passed more than one vehicle that Jarod identified as belonging to the Centre. At every bend they expected to find the road blocked, and Mike unnerved them all by never taking his eyes off the rear window, watching for any sign that they were being followed.

Ultimately, they made the trip safely, and now they were finally onboard the jet, and on their way home.

"Are you feeling okay?"

He half opened his eyes to find Alex watching him in concern, and he offered her a tired smile.

"I'm okay," he reassured her. "Just tired. It's been a long day."

She had to smile. He couldn't have made a bigger understatement if he'd tried.

"Seriously, Bobby. How are you feeling?"

A sigh escaped his lips.

"My ribs hurt. My head hurts. My shoulder hurts. Pretty much everything hurts. I hate thinking how I'll feel tomorrow… but at the same time, I feel pretty good. I… I stopped him from taking me again, Alex. _I_ did it, on my own." His lips curled upwards in a wry smile. "I nearly killed myself in the process, but I did it."

She rested her head lightly on his shoulder.

"Yes, you did. We're all proud of you for that, Bobby. But will you promise me something?"

He glanced down at her quizzically.

"What?"

"Promise me you won't go wandering off again like you did today. I understand you want some freedom and independence, but I just don't think I could take many more frights like we all had today."

"I promise," he murmured, and she shivered a little at the feel of his lips pressing gently to her hair. "Alex…?"

"What is it?"

"Talk me through what's going to happen when we get back to New York."

She pulled back from him a little.

"Didn't the captain talk to you about it?"

"Some. I want to hear it from you."

Alex was silent for a long moment before answering.

"Okay. When we land, there'll be someone from our squad waiting to meet us with a van. From there, we'll head to One Police Plaza to collect some things… and besides, that's where my car is. Then you and I will head straight to my parents' place. Did he tell you about the security system we're going to have installed at your apartment?"

Bobby nodded.

"Yes. I appreciate it. And… I appreciate your mom and dad being willing to take me in, too."

"Well, they were thrilled when I contacted them to let them know we were coming home, and they were ecstatic to hear that you were coming with us. When I said we needed somewhere to bunk down while the security issues at your apartment were taken care of, they practically threatened me with disownment if I didn't agree to us staying there."

"They missed you," Bobby murmured, and Alex laughed softly.

"Yes, they did, but they've missed you, too. They're looking forward to seeing you, Bobby. You'd better be prepared for Mom to fuss over you."

She couldn't miss the red that was beginning to creep across his cheeks.

"I don't want her to make a fuss."

"Bobby, this is my mother we're talking about. She's never really happy unless she has someone to fuss over, and believe me, you qualify. My advice is to just go with it."

He answered her advice with silence, staring up at the ceiling of the jet. She continued to watch him for a while, considering whether to attempt to continue the conversation, or let it slide. Finally, she decided on the former.

"Bobby, if you're not happy with these arrangements, then please tell me. The last thing any of us want is for you to be unhappy now."

"It's not that," Bobby said softly.

"Then what?" she pressed when he didn't go on. As she watched him, she saw redden, and realised with a sharp pang of sympathy that he was genuinely embarrassed.

"It'll sound childish," he mumbled. Alex reached over and brushed her fingertips lightly over his forehead and temple, though she took great care to avoid coming into contact with the ugly bruises and swelling on and around his face. He really had taken a nasty battering in the car crash, she mused, and found herself hoping vehemently that Lyle had suffered doubly.

"Don't worry about what it might sound like," she told him. "Just say what you need to say."

He conceded, if somewhat reluctantly.

"You all made these decisions… but no one asked me what I want."

Alex grimaced, immediately understanding where he was coming from.

"I'm sorry, Bobby. We didn't think that maybe you'd want to do something else. It just seemed like the best solution…"

"No," he murmured. "That… That isn't what I'm trying to say. I'm okay with the plan. I… I just would have liked to been involved in the decision-making."

She smiled, then, and settled back down beside him, slipping one arm comfortably around his waist and resting her other hand on the top of his head.

"Duly noted. Next time, I promise. We won't leave you out of the decision-making. But are you sure you're okay with what's going to happen now?"

A wry smile twisted his lips. It was a little bit late to object now, he thought, but held back from voicing that thought.

"I'm sure," he insisted, and meant it. "Really, Alex, I am."

She sighed and cuddled in against him, finally relaxing.

"Okay, then."

* * *

_Some time after midnight_

Aidan Jeffries stood on the outer edge of the tarmac, watching with butterflies in his gut as the jet came in to land and taxied in. He'd been greatly looking forward to seeing his colleagues and his captain again, but he was more than a little nervous about it, too. They had been gone now for a little over a month and a half, but it felt a hell of a lot longer. That wasn't even taking into account the nine months previous that Bobby had been gone for.

A faint smile quirked Jeffries' lips. He recalled very clearly the reaction not quite a week ago, when word was received that they were finally coming home. Jackson had taken the call. He'd been appointed acting captain during Deakins' absence, a move that had thoroughly pissed off the Chief of Detectives, and a number of other members of the brass. Any opposition to it had run into a brick wall, though. Specifically, a brick wall by the name of Gerald Adkins. The Commissioner had stuck to his guns, refusing to back down to outside pressure. Nor would he give an explanation for his actions in appointing Jackson to lead the squad.

During his month and a half in charge, Jackson had maintained an open door policy, the same as Deakins, and so they had all heard Jackson's startled exclamation when he answered the phone one afternoon, nearly a week ago now.

* * *

"_Captain! Is that really you…?"_

_Silence fell very abruptly across the entire squad room as they all listened intently. They all hoped this phone call meant good news._

_Jackson's voice dropped to a low murmur, making it impossible to hear what was being said, but before any of them had the chance to move closer, they heard the distinct sound of the phone being hung up, and then Jackson appeared in the doorway, his face flushed with excitement._

"_That was Captain Deakins. They're coming home!"_

_The statement was met with a rippling murmur. That was good news in itself, but not solely what they all wanted to know._

"_What about Goren?" someone asked. "Is he… You know…"_

_Jackson didn't try to hide the grin that lit up his face._

"_He's coming with them. He's gonna be okay!"_

_

* * *

_

The roar that went up in response to that piece of news was deafening, and Jeffries fancied that he could still feel his ears ringing in response. They were all looking forward to seeing their colleagues again, without a doubt, but they were all looking forward to seeing Bobby again most of all.

Of course, the entire squad knew the rescue itself had been successful. Jackson, Oliver and King had not been short on providing a detailed description upon their return, including a disturbing account of Bobby's apparent physical and mental degradation. Their retelling of Bobby's breakdown at the field where the helicopters were waiting to collect them all had left them all with a similar sense of anxiety.

For a month and a half now, none of them had known for certain the details of Bobby's recovery… or if he was even recovering at all. It was a huge relief to all of them that their fellow detective had apparently recovered sufficiently for them to bring him home.

Once quit had settled again, Jackson had gone on to explain that someone would need to volunteer to take a van and collect them from a private airport. He'd need not worried about getting a volunteer. They'd ended up having to draw a name out of a hat primarily because there was not a single detective there who hadn't volunteered.

They all wanted the job. They all wanted to be the first to see Bobby Goren again.

In the end, Jeffries had been the lucky one to win the task, and his enthusiasm never wavered, even after the second phone call warning that they would be arriving back in New York after midnight. He hadn't questioned it, but rather agreed to it cheerfully – much to the disappointment of fellow detectives who'd hoped that he would decline the task in favour of staying at home with his wife.

Jeffries chuckled to himself. Fat chance. He was looking forward to seeing them all far too much to be willing to give up the choice task.

He came back to the present as stairs were rolled up to the jet's hatch, and the door finally swung open to reveal the people within.

Deakins emerged first, followed by George Huang. Jeffries blinked in surprise at that. As far as any of them had known, it had only been Deakins, Alex Eames, Mike Logan and Carolyn Barek at the… well, wherever it was where they'd taken Bobby. He wondered at what point the psychiatrist had been employed or, indeed, how he'd gotten to wherever _there_ was in the first place.

Alex emerged next, and Jeffries sucked in a sharp breath as Bobby appeared behind her.

Even from a distance, he could make out the dramatic physical change in his fellow detective. Taking in Bobby's gaunt, pale features, and the way he seemed to be in pain with every movement he made, Jeffries couldn't help but wonder whether he looked much better now, as opposed to how he must have looked when he was first rescued.

Shaking himself out of his reverie, he hurried across the tarmac to the jet, just as Deakins reached the ground.

"Welcome home, Captain."

Deakins accepted Jeffries' outstretched hand with a relieved smile.

"It's good to be home. So, you drew the short straw to come and meet us?"

"Something like that, sir. Although, believe me when I tell you that I wasn't unhappy about it." He paused, his gaze flickering upwards to where Bobby was gingerly making his way down the steps. Alex was going equally slowly in front of him, and Mike Logan was immediately behind him. Both detectives seemed more concerned with making sure Bobby made it down safely than getting down onto the ground level themselves. "Is he… okay?"

Deakins nodded, though his gaze held a deeper concern that he didn't bother trying to conceal.

"He's fine, Jeffries. He's just a little worse for wear after an unfortunate incident yesterday."

Deakins didn't elaborate further, and Jeffries decided against asking him to. Instead, he waited patiently until they were all safely on the ground before speaking directly to Bobby.

"Welcome home, Bobby. It's great to see you again, man."

"Thanks," Bobby murmured. He hesitated, and then his brow creased. After a long moment of awkward silence, Alex spoke quietly.

"This is Aidan Jeffries, Bobby. He's part of our squad."

"Oh," Bobby mumbled, his gaze dropping. Jeffries felt his face heat up as he realised that Bobby hadn't been able to remember his name. He turned abruptly, suddenly eager to redirect everyone's attention, as much for his own sake as well as Bobby's.

"The van is this way, folks."

* * *

"Don't take offence, okay?"

Jeffries looked around to see Mike had fallen into step beside him, and the expression on his face was one of anxiety and concern. Concern, Jeffries realised, for Bobby.

"What do you mean?" he asked, genuinely confused.

"Well, that Bobby didn't remember you. He doesn't remember most of who's in the squad. The sons of bitches that grabbed him did a pretty thorough job."

Jeffries hesitated for a moment before speaking again.

"Did he remember you…? When you rescued him, I mean."

"At first? No. He remembered the captain… and Alex… but it took a while before he remembered me and Carolyn. Just… be patient, okay?"

Jeffries nodded, his heart beating painfully hard in his chest as he watched Bobby walking slowly ahead, with Alex on one side of him, and Jimmy Deakins on the other.

"Yeah," he murmured. "Sure. We can do that."

* * *

_One Police Plaza_

Had it not been for the circumstances they were returning under, Alex would have been amused at the way Bobby seemed so anxious to take in everything. As it was, she couldn't keep a smile completely off her face. For the entire trip from the airport to One Police Plaza, Bobby never took his face from the window.

They arrived at One Police Plaza, and Jeffries guided the van into the building underground garage. From there, they all headed straight up to the eleventh floor, to the Major Case Squad room. Deakins headed straight in, and over to his office, while Mike and Carolyn made their way over to their respective desks. Bobby, however, lingered in the entrance to the bullpen, looking around in silence.

There was one thing that he had not confessed to anyone – not to George, or even Alex – and that was his inability to remember what the squad room looked like. He'd tried to recall it many times. He had even tried to sketch the layout, all to no avail. Now, though, he drew in a long, calming breath as it all flooded back.

A hand descended onto his shoulder, gentle and reassuring, and he looked around to see George there beside him, smiling kindly.

"Welcome home, Bobby," he told him quietly.

Bobby sucked in a shaky breath. Yes, he thought, and felt his heart clutch in his chest. Welcome home, indeed.

"Are you okay?" Alex asked, slipping her arm comfortingly around his waist. Bobby didn't even try to hide his tears as he answered, for this time they were tears of relief and gratitude, rather than tears of grief or fear.

"I… I'm okay," he admitted softly. "It's just, I never thought I'd see this place again. I think maybe I'm feeling happier right now than I've been for a long while. I… I'm home."

She hugged him to her.

"Yes, you are. And your desk hasn't been changed at all." She took care not to add 'from the day you were taken' on to the end of that sentence. Instead, she led him over to their conjoined desks. "I refused to take on a temporary partner, Bobby. I didn't want any partner except you."

He looked at her, puzzled.

"But, if you didn't take a partner…"

"I worked with Mike and Carolyn."

He chewed that over for a moment before responding.

"Your solve rate…"

She answered with a shrug.

"It was never about statistics, Bobby. You and I are a team. I don't want anyone else. Ever."

He smiled, touched, and then his gaze flickered towards his chair.

"Go on," she encouraged him. "Sit down."

He did so with some degree of caution, and sat there for a moment just taking everything in. After a moment he laid his hands down flat on the desktop, and the tiniest shudder of relief escaped him.

"Home," he whispered and, for the first time, dared to allow himself to believe it.

* * *

"Hey, check it out, Captain."

Deakins looked around at Mike's urging, and a grin lit up his face at the sight of Bobby sitting at his desk. He walked over to the window panel to watch.

"Now there's a sight for sore eyes, Mike. Let's hope it's not too long before he's back officially, and I can give these back to him."

Mike looked down to see Deakins was holding the strong box in which he'd stored all of their guns, IDs and shields. The captain had emptied the box of all but Bobby's belongings.

He nodded in wordless agreement with Deakins' words, fervently hoping and praying for the same thing.

* * *

_Residence of John & Helen Eames_

Alex was amused, though not surprised, when they arrived at her parents' home to find the lights still on, despite the lateness of the hour. As she pulled up in the driveway, she spared Bobby a glance, and smiled. He was fast asleep, slumped against the car door. That didn't surprise her, either. After all, it had been an incredibly long twenty-fours for him.

She was loathed to wake him, but nor did she have any intention of leaving him in the car all night. Leaning over, she pressed her lips gently to his temple, and whispered to him.

"Bobby, wake up, baby."

She smiled and flushed a little even as she spoke. It was the first time such an endearment had passed her lips. She was quietly thrilled at how naturally it came out.

Bobby stirred, and his eyes flickered open. A moment later, they locked gazes and a weary smile lit up his face, and his eyes.

"Hi."

She grinned.

"Hi yourself. We're here."

He looked around dazedly, and then sighed with audible relief. A moment later, he realised what she'd already noticed.

"Your parents are still up?"

"Looks like it," Alex agreed. "C'mon, let's get inside, out of the cold."

* * *

They'd just gotten out of the car, and were getting their bags out when the front door opened and John Eames appeared. He paused in the doorway for just a moment before coming down the steps towards them.

"Lexie…"

Alex gasped a little, suddenly finding herself caught up in a ferocious hug that left her with precious little room to breathe.

"Dad…" she rasped. "Need air…"

"Sorry, honey," he murmured, chastened. He let go, and stepped back to look her over. "Are you okay, Alex? Really okay?"

"I'm fine," she assured him. "Really, Dad, I am."

John nodded, appeased, and then he turned to Bobby.

"Bobby, it's good to see you again."

"You too, sir," Bobby murmured, not quite able to hold John's gaze. John eyed him critically for a moment before reaching down to pick up two of their bags.

"C'mon, let's go inside."

* * *

Once inside, John directed them to leave their bags in the hall, and go through into the family room. They walked in just as Helen brought in a tray with mugs and a steaming pot of what smelled like some exotic brand of tea. Setting the tray down, Helen first hugged Alex fiercely, and then threw her arms around Bobby in an equally enthusiastic greeting.

"Bobby, sweetheart, welcome home. It's so good to see you."

Bobby faltered for just a moment before his arms found their way around Helen, and he finally hugged her back, albeit briefly.

"Sit," John urged them as Helen directed her attention to pouring hot tea for all of them. "Now, tell us. Is everything sorted out now?"

Alex looked at Bobby, who looked slightly uneasy. She answered when Bobby couldn't bring himself to.

"Not entirely," she answered. "But that's not what's important right now. It's been a really long day, and we're both tired…"

"Of course," Helen murmured. "Alex, you can sleep in your old room, and we've made up the bed in Philip's old room for Bobby. John, why don't you take Bobby upstairs?"

John nodded and got up. However, neither he nor Helen missed the way Bobby glanced to Alex for reassurance before getting up as well and silently following John from the room.

"I don't want to sound critical, honey," Helen murmured to Alex once Bobby and John were out of the room, "but he seems a little subdued. Is he… you know… all right?"

Alex grimaced and shifted across to sit beside her mother on the sofa.

"Careful, Mom. One thing that being in that place gave him is really incredible hearing."

Helen paled slightly, but Alex grasped her hand firmly in reassurance.

"It's okay. He expects people to talk about him. That doesn't bother him in itself… Just, try to be sensitive about what you say?"

"Sure," Helen agreed.

"And as for him being subdued… Well, maybe I'd better what until Dad comes back down, and then I'll talk to you both together. There are some things I need to tell you, and I'd prefer it if it wasn't in front of Bobby."

"Of course," Helen murmured.

* * *

"Tell me honestly, son," John said quietly as he ushered Bobby into the room that they'd prepared for him. "How are you feeling?"

Bobby hesitated before answering. It had been his experience in the past that when people asked a question like that, they really didn't want to hear the truth. But at the same time, he just couldn't bring himself to say he was fine. His attention was drawn when John laid a hand on his upper arm, and favoured him with an understanding smile.

"I want to you be honest, Bobby. If you're feeling like crap, then say so."

"I don't feel like… that," Bobby answered finally. "I… I guess I'm mostly tired."

John eyed him critically.

"You look more than tired. You look like you got into a punch up with a truck, and lost."

Bobby sucked in a long, slow breath. Those were memories he didn't care to relive right then. Fortunately, John seemed to comprehend his sudden reticence.

"It's all right. You don't have to talk about anything until you're ready. Now, you know the layout of the house…" He trailed off, catching a glimpse of fleeting panic in Bobby's eyes, and it occurred to him that after nearly eleven months away, his memory be a little on the hazy side. Keeping that in mind, he went on as casually as he could. "So, you know that the bathroom and toilet are right opposite this bedroom, Alex's room is right next to this one, and mine and Helen's room is downstairs, and the back of the house. And anything you want from the kitchen, any time of the day or night, you just go and help yourself. Okay?"

Bobby answered with a nod. His momentary panic subsided, and he walked over and sat down on the bed with a soft thud. John watched him thoughtfully for a long moment before going over and pulling a chair over and sitting down in front of Bobby.

"Bobby, look at me."

Slowly, Bobby raised his eyes to meet John's, and it was all John could do not to flinch at the pain and sadness that he saw reflected there. John suddenly found himself at a complete loss to know what to say or do. After a brief moment of stagnant silence, John made himself speak.

"Listen, son, I'm not going to tell you that I understand, because I don't. Not yet. Helen and I don't know what sort of hell you've been through, but when you're ready to talk, we'll be here to listen. Do you understand?"

Bobby nodded once, and John thought he caught a glimpse of gratitude in the midst of the pain. Relieved, he nodded and stood up.

"Okay, then. Try and get some sleep now, okay?" He paused, and then added in a sincere tone, "You're safe here, Bobby. I promise you that."

He stepped out of the room, and was just pulling the bedroom door shut when Bobby spoke suddenly, panic in his voice.

"Please, don't…"

John froze for a split second, confused. And then, suddenly, he realised what was wrong.

"The door? You don't want the door shut?"

"Please," Bobby whispered hoarsely, breathless with burgeoning panic. "Leave it open. At the Centre… Every night they'd take me back to my room… and they'd shut me in… Lock the door… Trap me. Please don't ever close it."

John felt his gut twist into a painful knot. For some fool reason, when Alex had contacted them and told them they were coming home, he'd assumed that Bobby was fully recovered. Clearly that was not the case, and he began to wonder just how deep the damage really was.

"Okay, Bobby," he conceded. "We'll always leave it open. Calm down, son. Everything's all right."

Shame and humiliation flickered in Bobby's eyes, and he looked away. John hesitated, and then went back in to the younger man and sat down beside him on the bed.

"There's no shame in feeling fear, Bobby. Whatever happens, don't be ashamed of that. Listen to me, now. I'm going to lay down just two rules for while you're here. Firstly, don't apologise when there's no need for it. Secondly, whatever is going on, we want you to at least try to talk to us about it. Don't hold things in. Let us help you, if we can. Okay?"

Bobby drew in a shuddering breath. He appreciated John's consideration and kindness far more than he was capable of expressing right then.

"Okay," he agreed. John smiled in relief, and couldn't help but feel that he'd taken a small step forward. Getting back up, he headed out again, and this time made no attempt to close the door.

"Goodnight, Bobby."

"Goodnight, sir."

John smiled faintly. He would sort out the issue of Bobby calling him 'sir' when things were more settled. Until then, he wouldn't rock the boat. With a last look at him as Bobby lay down on the bed – still fully dressed – he turned and headed quietly back down the stairs.

* * *

"Lexie," John said quietly as he came back into the family room to join his wife and daughter. "Are you going to give us a clue here about what was done to that boy?"

Alex sighed and rubbed her face tiredly over her hands, prompting her mother to protest on her behalf.

"John, can't it wait until morning? Look at her, she's exhausted!"

"No," Alex mumbled before her father had a chance to argue. "Dad's right. There are some things you need to know now. But I can't tell you about what was done to him. Not right away, at least. It'd take way too long, and besides… it's not my place to say."

"Okay," John conceded. "Fair enough. So, what _can_ we expect?"

"Well, for starters, he's still having bad nightmares. And I mean _really_ bad nightmares. Most times he wakes up screaming, and sometimes he… um…"

"Is prone to having accidents?" John suggested gently, and Alex nodded ruefully.

"Yes. It's humiliating for him, but sometimes the nightmares really are that bad."

"Well, it's doesn't bother me," Helen declared firmly. "You make sure he knows that, Alex."

Alex smiled faintly and nodded, deciding there was no point in trying to explain to her mother that it just wasn't that simple. Her mother tended to deal in straight black and white. She simply didn't acknowledge the existence of grey. She would talk to Bobby about it to reassure him, but it making him accept that her mother didn't care about occasional 'accidents' certainly would not be as simple as telling 'it's okay'. Nothing about Bobby was ever that simple.

"All those cuts and bruises on him," John said. "How did he get those? They look very recent."

"And that's the other thing you need to know," Alex said grimly. "Yesterday, he went for a walk on his own… and believe me, that was an achievement for him, because he only started going outside maybe a week or two ago. Anyway, he went on a walk, and he had a run-in with one of the sons of bitches from the Centre."

"So they are still looking for him," John murmured.

"Yes," Alex confirmed. "But as far as we know, they don't know he's back in New York. But… if you guys are uncomfortable about it, we'll make other arrangements…"

"Alex, you are not taking that boy out of this house," John growled. "He's family, and we always take care of our own. We're fine with the situation. We just want to know what to expect."

She nodded in gratitude, and then went on quietly and quickly.

"He ran into Lyle yesterday, and Lyle tried to take him again. He got Bobby into his car, but Bobby decided he wasn't going to be taken again, and he fought back. The car rolled, and that's how Bobby got all beaten up. Where we were staying, there's a woman who has medical training. She checked him over, but she's worried he might have cracked ribs, or worse."

John grimaced in sympathy.

"Well, I guess that explains the way he winced when he sat down."

"Right," Alex confirmed. "He's going to have to be taken to a doctor tomorrow, for x-rays. We were wondering if you guys might be willing to take him. I need to get into One Police Plaza as early as possible. Captain Deakins, Mike, Carolyn and I will be going to see the Commissioner together. You know, to let him know we're back, and that we brought Bobby home."

"We can do that," Helen agreed, and John nodded his concurrence. "Absolutely, honey. Don't worry about it, just leave it to us."

"We're going to look after him, Alex," John promised her. "He's home, now, and we're not going to lose him again."

* * *

He was fast asleep when she finally made it upstairs, and stopped to look in on him. She paused in the doorway, smiling wryly at the way he'd curled up on the bed, still in his clothes. For a brief moment, she considered waking him up to get him out of them and into a more comfortable pair of pyjamas, but then changed her mind. He looked peaceful, and she really didn't want to disturb him.

After a moment's hesitation, Alex ventured into the room, and sat down on the edge of the bed. She watched him for nearly a minute before reaching over and stroking her fingers lightly over his temple, cheek and hair. He stirred a little at the contact, but didn't waken.

"Welcome home, Bobby," she whispered, tears stinging her eyes as it hit that he was, indeed, home. Leaning down, she kissed him lovingly on the cheek before getting up and leaving him be to sleep off his exhaustion.

* * *

_tbc..._


	31. A Disturbing Discovery

A/N: _Again, mucho thanks to bammi1, and to my good friend Vikki, for their help in formulating this chapter. I doubt I could have done it without them. And, it would have been much shorter and more boring if I'd tried._

_And no. I'm not introducing potential romantic competition into the mix. The Bobby/Alex pairing is safe._

_

* * *

_

Alex arose just as dawn was breaking. She dressed quickly and quietly, acutely aware that no one else was up yet. She paused in the doorway of Bobby's room, watching him with a smile of satisfaction. He hadn't moved an inch since she'd last looked in on him, and for all appearances appeared to be sleeping peacefully. She fervently hoped that that would continue to be the case.

Slowly, with more than a little reluctance, she moved away from the door. Little though she liked it, she had agreed to be in at One Police Plaza first thing, and that meant entrusting Bobby into the care of her parents. It was a harder thing to do than she had imagined it might be. As much as she trusted her parents to look after Bobby, the bottom line was that she didn't want to give him up to anyone else's care.

She wanted him to herself, she realised with some embarrassment. But then, after nine months separated from him, was that really such a terrible thing? She didn't think so. All the same, that one particular morning she had no alternative. All she could hope was that she wouldn't have to stay at One Police Plaza beyond meeting with the Commissioner.

With a last look at her sleeping partner, Alex hurried down the stairs, and out of the house.

* * *

John was the first up, after Alex had gone. He lay in bed for a while, his mind pleasantly blank, before remembering that he and Helen were not alone in the house. Suddenly curious, he got up and left the bedroom, heading upstairs to check in on their guest. It was as he was coming to the top of the staircase that he heard it – muffled sobs, intermixed with heartbreaking pleas for mercy. Hurrying down, John strode into the room where Bobby had slept, and stopped in shock and dismay.

Bobby had fallen completely off the bed, and was curled up on the floor, tangled up in the blankets. John suspected he must have hit his head on the dresser when he fell, because his head was bleeding. It didn't look too severe to him, but it was certainly going to need medical attention.

Hoping fervently that Bobby wouldn't react badly, John went over and crouched down beside the younger man.

"Bobby, wake up, son."

He spoke loudly and firmly, hoping to be able to wake Bobby up without having to actually lay a hand on him. It worked – he awoke with a violent start, his breath catching in his throat.

"Easy, son," John murmured as Bobby started to sit up, only to wince from the pain of his head injury. "You've given yourself a pretty nasty knock on the head. That must have been one unpleasant dream you were having."

Bobby shuddered.

"I... I don't remember."

John very much doubted that, but he wasn't going to argue with him over it right then and there.

"Here..." He got to his feet and offered a hand to Bobby, who accepted the help graciously. "C'mon downstairs, Bobby. I'll make us some coffee."

* * *

Five minutes later, they were sitting at the table in the kitchen, sipping steaming hot mugs of coffee. So far, Bobby hadn't said a word about the nightmare he'd had, but John was patient.

"Helen and I promised Alex that we'd take you to see a doctor this morning," John explained quietly. "Get those ribs checked out... and anything else that needs looking at. Are you okay with that?"

While John watched, Bobby rubbed gingerly at his ribs. They hurt badly, he couldn't deny it. His shoulder was also an ongoing issue. As much as he loathed the idea of seeing a doctor... _any_ doctor... he knew he had to do something to try and reverse the damage that had been done. If he didn't, he knew he would never be approved to return to work.

"That's fine," he mumbled, his gaze fixed on the coffee in front of him.

"Well, is there any doctor in particular you'd prefer to see? Or are you fine with just going to an ER?"

"We... We could go to the ER at St Clare's," Bobby said finally. "There's a doctor there. Dr Liz Bauer. She's treated me before. I... I don't mind seeing her."

John held back from commenting, but he found it curious all the same that, given the choice, Bobby chose a female doctor over a male one.

"Okay, then," he said simply. "St Clare's it is."

* * *

_St Clare's Hospital_

Elizabeth Bauer was a busy doctor. In addition to the work she did in the clinic that was attached to St Clare's Hospital in New York, she also worked as a trauma specialist in the hospital's ER. That was where she was when word reached her that there was police detective in the clinic in need of medical attention, and that he was refusing to allow anyone else to treat him.

She treated cops all the time, and it wasn't uncommon for them to ask for her if they happened to show up at the clinic for any care they might have needed. They knew, however, that her time was divided between the clinic and the ER, and if she wasn't available they generally accepted that. It made her curious, as well as irritated, that someone could be so arrogant as to demand her exclusive attention.

"You're gonna want to see this guy, Liz," the doctor who had offered to find her said.

"Danny, I don't give a damn if he's the Commissioner," Liz grumbled as she tried to focus on stitching a foot-long knife wound on the arm of a young man. "No one person can monopolise my time! If he's that eager to see me, he can come back when I'm rostered on for the clinic again, in two days' time."

"It's not that simple, Liz," Danny Schroeder told her. "I tried to deal with the guy myself. I tried to explain that you weren't available, but when I tried to get near him, he damn near had a panic attack."

Liz paused, looking around at Danny quizzically.

"A panic attack?"

"Yeah. When I finally gave up and said I'd come get you, he was sitting on the floor in the corner of room, and he refused to get up again."

"Oh, just great," she grumbled. "A cop having a tantrum. Just what I need."

"Liz, he's not having a tantrum," Danny told her softly. "He really is genuinely terrified. The couple that brought him in, they said he'd been through a really severe trauma over the last ten or eleven months, and that he was still recovering."

"Then he should be at a shrink's office, not here," Liz grumbled.

"Maybe, but he still needs treatment. Apparently he was in a bad car accident just a couple of days ago. The couple told me they think he might have a few cracked or broken ribs."

Finally, she sighed and stepped back from her current patient.

"If he's got cracked ribs, then sitting on the floor sulking is going to do him an absolute world of good, isn't it? Okay, fine. I'll go see to him. And he better be for real, Danny. I'm not in the mood to deal with hypochondriacs. Not today."

"Oh, he's for real," Danny answered grimly, "and he's not sulking on the floor, either. Just… trust me, please? I wouldn't have come to get you if I didn't think it was warranted."

"Fine. Here, you finish this up, and I'll go deal with our precious police officer. Did you happen to get a name?"

"Yeah. He said his name was Bobby. Bobby Goren."

Liz stood frozen, staring at Danny in shock before turning and running from the ER.

* * *

Liz arrived at the clinic, and was immediately pointed towards Examination Room Three. She found a man standing in the doorway, watching with grim anxiety as she approached.

"Are you Dr Bauer?" the man asked, making no effort to move from the doorway. She nodded, and motioned to her ID card.

"Yes, that's me. And you are?"

"John Eames. My wife Helen and I brought Bobby in. Our daughter is his partner."

Liz tried to look past him into the examination room, to no avail.

"Where is he?" she asked finally, and John stepped to one side.

"In here."

Liz stepped inside, and came to a complete halt, staring at Bobby in confused dismay. He was sitting on the floor, just as Danny had told her, with his knees tucked up to his chest and curling himself into as tight a ball as he could manage. Tears streaked his face, and he was rocking back and forth slightly. His lips were moving fervently, but no sound came out.

She stared at him for nearly a minute, stunned, before looking to the elderly couple who had come in with him.

"What…?"

Eloquent though it was, she could think of nothing else to say. Never before had the sight of someone incapacitated ever left her so utterly speechless.

"He's been traumatised," John said, and this time she clearly heard the anger in his voice. "He suffered nine months of a hell that you couldn't begin to imagine, and your… _colleague_ has just made it worse."

"What happened?" Liz asked as she started forward.

"Bobby asked specifically for you," Helen said heatedly. "But that Dr Schroeder wouldn't listen to him. He told Bobby he had to get undressed, and when Bobby refused, he called in a couple of orderlies to _help_. Bobby went into an absolute panic. And now… Well, I don't even know if he can hear us now."

Liz passed Helen, and dropped into a crouch in front of Bobby, looking him over critically as she tried to determine the best way to deal with him. There were a thousand questions in her mind, but now was not the time nor the place to be asking any of them.

"Bobby," she spoke, keeping her voice low and gentle. "Look at me, Bobby."

Though he didn't look directly at her, the way he winced slightly at the sound of his own name being called told her that he could indeed hear her. She tried again, raising the volume of her voice just fractionally.

"Detective Goren, look at me."

Bobby's eyes snapped up, locking onto hers, and for a brief moment, Liz had to fight a powerful desire to look away. She held his gaze for what felt like an eternity before she saw some clarity finally return to his brown eyes.

"L…Liz…"

She reached out to gently touch her fingertips to his chin, and lifted his face a little.

"I'm told you sent one of my colleagues packing. If I'd known you were _that_ eager to see me…"

The light joke failed to get so much as a smile from him. Instead, she felt a violent tremble pass through his body.

"He… He wanted me to undress… I… I couldn't do that."

She heard the raw fear in his voice, and wondered again what could have possibly happened to him to make him so afraid. This was not the same detective who had once given her nurses hell while recuperating from a burst appendicitis, or who had tried to check himself out of the hospital the day after being shot in the leg.

This was not the same man who had taken her out, wined and dined her into the early hours of the morning, and shown her how a woman deserved to really be treated.

The man who now sat on the floor in front of her, cowering in fear, was almost unrecognisable.

Even as she reeled in mental shock from what she was seeing, her professional state of mind kicked in almost without her realising it as she finally registered the bruises and swelling on his face. A glance down told her his chest was similarly bruised. Despite his obvious reticence about undressing, she had to find a way to coax him into taking his shirt off, at the very least, if she was going to treat him successfully.

"Okay," she murmured finally. "How about we start by getting you back up, and sitting on the examination table?"

She held out one hand to him in as non-confrontational a gesture as she could manage. After nearly a minute of no response, Bobby finally reached out a trembling hand, and allowed himself to be coaxed up off the floor.

"All right," Liz murmured, guiding him over to sit on the examination table. She then looked at the bruises and swelling on his face with sympathy. "You look like you got into a brawl, Bobby, not a car accident. You want to tell me exactly what happened?"

He didn't answer immediately and, for a moment, she watched the shadows pass fleetingly across his face. He wasn't going to tell her _exactly_ what happened, she realised. Right at that moment, he was trying to decide exactly what to tell her. As he thought it over, she gently probed with her fingertips along his jaw, cheeks, the bridge of his nose, and finally his forehead. He winced visibly as she made contact with each and every bruise.

"It wasn't an accident," he said finally, his voice barely more than a whisper. Liz regarded him in curiosity.

"You weren't in a car accident?"

"I… I didn't say that."

"Well, either you were or you weren't."

Bobby let his breath out in a rush.

"I was in a car that crashed… but it wasn't an accident."

She paused, and then took a step back from him, staring at him piercingly.

"What are you trying to say, Bobby? That you deliberately ran a car off the road?"

"Not off the road," Bobby answered softly. As he spoke, his gaze became fixed on his hands, and she couldn't get him to maintain eye contact with her. Another disturbing change… "The car flipped, and rolled… F… Four or five times."

He offered no explanation as to how the crash had occurred, and she decided against pressing him for one. Instead, she shook her head and returned her attention to a particularly nasty looking abrasion along his hairline.

"Damn, Bobby. And you walked away from that?"

He shuddered a little.

"Yes. As fast as I could."

She blinked in surprise at the odd remark but made no comment about it, instead choosing to comment on his physical condition..

"Well, you were really lucky, Bobby. I'm going to take facial x-rays, but I think you are only badly bruised." She stook a step back, then, eyeing him thoughtfully. "Bobby, hon, I'm going to need to see your chest. Will you let me?"

It was a very carefully worded request. There was no demand in her tone, and that perhaps was what won her his acquiescence. Slowly, with trembling fingers, he unbuttoned his shirt.

"Sweet mother of God…"

The horrified exclamation came from John, and Liz felt inclined to agree. Bobby's chest was not covered by a whole lot of individual bruises, but rather one enormous, all-encompassing giant bruise. There was very little flesh on his chest that wasn't touched by it. Liz's sharp eyes picked up the scarring that peppered his upper body, but chose to raise it with him later. Now was the time to focus on current injuries.

"Bobby, I want to get x-rays of your face and chest… and I think of your back as well. Tell me, how do your arms and legs feel? Any significant pain there?"

"No," he mumbled. "Just my chest… and my shoulder."

Liz hesitated before responding.

"Your shoulder hurts? Which shoulder?"

"The right one."

"Okay. Hon, if I'm going to be able to do anything about it, you're going to need to take off your shirt. Will you do that for me?"

She thought that he was going to panic again. But even as she watched, he seemed to take control of his own emotions and, with a fresh resolve, he shrugged off the shirt and let it fall to the floor.

It took a great effort on Liz's part not to groan in sympathy pain at the sight of his inflamed shoulder joint. She didn't need a scan to know with reasonable certainty that he was going to need surgery to correct whatever damage had been done. She said nothing, though, sensing that a comment like that might only trigger another panic attack.

"Okay," she murmured. "I'm going to organise for x-rays to be taken immediately, as well as a scan of your shoulder. Are you okay with that?"

He glanced at her briefly with a gaze that clearly said he knew he didn't have a choice, and for a fleeting moment she could see the man she used to know in those world-weary brown eyes. Smiling reassuringly at him, she retreated to the door, and her gaze went to John.

"Mr Eames? Could I speak to you outside, please?"

John hesitated, but Helen nodded reassuringly to him as she walked over to join Bobby.

"I'll wait here with Bobby. You go ahead, John."

With some reluctance, John followed Liz from the room.

* * *

"All right," Liz said in a soft, tense voice once they were outside the door. "What the hell happened to him?"

John didn't answer immediately, but walked away down the corridor, and didn't stop until they were at the far end.

"First of all, Dr Bauer," John said quietly, "you need to know that Bobby has exceptional hearing. And I _do_ mean exceptional. Secondly, all I know is that he was abducted and held prisoner for nine months before he was rescued."

Liz gaped at him, and a short burst of laughter escaped her. The laughter faded as fast as it had surfaced, though, as she got a good look at his grim expression.

"You're not kidding… are you?"

"Do I look like I am?" John growled. "Look, Bobby has been gone for nearly eleven months now. He only came home to New York last night. That boy has been through absolute hell, but I can't tell you the details. All I know is that whoever the bastards are who took him, they damn near broke him."

Liz nodded as she glanced back up the corridor to the room where they'd left Bobby.

"I gathered as much. Okay, I'm going to put in the order for the x-rays and scans, and we'll get them done as quickly as possible. I'll send in a nurse with some forms that Bobby will need to sign."

"Doctor," John said quickly as she started to walk away from him. Liz paused, looking back questioningly at him.

"What is it, Mr Eames?"

"I saw that look on your face when you saw his shoulder. How bad is it?"

"I really can't answer that without doing a scan first…"

He cut her off quietly but firmly.

"I'm not asking for a formal diagnosis, Dr Bauer. I'm asking you what you think."

She looked uncomfortable, but conceded reluctantly.

"My personal opinion, Mr Eames? Speaking confidentially, I believe he's going to need surgery to set that shoulder right again."

John sighed softly.

"That's not going to sit well with him."

"It's just an opinion, Mr Eames. There's a possibility that we'll scan the shoulder and find that the damage isn't as severe as it looks from the outside, and that all he'll need is physiotherapy to put it right again."

"But you doubt it," John put in, and Liz nodded.

"Yes, I doubt it. Excuse me, Mr Eames. I'll go make the arrangements, and send in the nurse with the forms."

* * *

_A couple of hours later_

Alex arrived at the hospital after lunch, after finally getting permission from Deakins to leave. She grimaced as she headed up in the lift to the fourth floor, following the directions her parents had given her. Despite Deakins being equally concerned about Bobby's wellbeing, it still hadn't taken him long to fall back into the role of captain, and in that role he'd demanded she finish filling in the forms the Commissioner had dumped on all of them in order to complete their return to work.

She supposed she couldn't complain. When she'd left, Carolyn still had half a dozen pages to fill in, while Mike… Well, needless to say, he had a lot more left to do than his partner.

She turned a corner, and almost ran into her father, who was standing just outside one of the rooms.

"Daddy…?"

He offered her a weary smile.

"Hey, sweetheart. How'd it all go this morning?"

"Pretty good. The Commissioner was particularly glad to have Deakins back."

"Jackson hasn't been doing such a great job?"

"It's not that. It seems that Jackson hasn't learnt the art of kissing asses. When a politician, or a leading figure tried to get their own way with him, he apparently told them to… well, you know. The Commissioner was starting to get worn out covering his ass for him."

John chuckled.

"What a pity that is. So, did the Commissioner ask about Bobby?"

"He asked about Bobby before anything else. When Deakins told him that it might be a little while before Bobby can come back to work, he was disappointed, but he accepted it. He said he'll hold Bobby's place in the squad until he is ready."

"Well, that's something," John murmured. Alex glanced past him to the open doorway of the hospital room.

"Your message said that he'd been admitted?"

"Just for the afternoon," John answered. "It was the only way that they could get him into a bed here, by promising he'd be able to go home this evening. The doctor wanted to consult a specialist about Bobby's shoulder, but he apparently wasn't available until mid-afternoon. And…"

He paused, then, a frown creasing his features. Alex read the concern in his face, and felt her stomach lurch.

"What? What's wrong?"

"Calm down, Lexie," he told her gently. "As far as we know, nothing. It's just… I overheard Dr Bauer talking to another doctor about something that's come up in the chest x-rays they took. But I don't know what it is. I think they realised I could hear them, and decided to take the conversation elsewhere. It's probably nothing to panic about, so don't get yourself all worried just yet, okay?"

Alex nodded, although the expression on her face suggested she was already worried. Stepping around her father, she walked into a warm sunny hospital room to discover a touching sight. Bobby was sound asleep on the bed, with his chest thoroughly bandaged and his right arm held firmly against his body courtesy of an immobiliser. Helen sat on the left side of the bed, his hand firmly clasped in hers. She offered Alex a warm smile as her daughter walked in.

"It was the only way he'd go to sleep, for me to hold his hand. Poor baby…"

Alex walked over to the bedside and, on impulse, leant down to kiss him tenderly on the cheek. He stirred at the contact, and his eyes fluttered open. A tired smile touched his lips at the sight of her.

"Hey."

Alex smiled and smoothed back his hair, conscious of the gauze that covered a portion of his forehead.

"Hey yourself. How are you feeling?"

"Ready to go home," he mumbled. His gaze went past her to someone standing in the doorway. "How much longer do I have to stay here?"

Alex turned to find Liz standing there, watching with the scene before her with a smile. Deciding not to worry about how much she might or might not have seen, Alex walked over to exchange a hug with the other woman.

"Hi, Liz."

"Alex. Good to see you again. In answer to your question, Bobby, a little while longer. I need to talk to you about the x-rays we took."

"Broken ribs instead of cracked?" he queried, and Liz shook her head.

"Miraculously, no. You have seven cracked ribs, and that's the worst of it. No, it's something else."

Walking around, she produced and x-ray from a large envelope, and held it up against the window, giving them all a clear view. Silence descended for several seconds before John came forward slowly, a frown on his face.

"What the hell is _that_?"

Liz looked back at Bobby, while still holding the x-ray up to the light.

"That's what I'd like to know. Personally, I've never come across anything like it, and I was hoping Bobby might have an explanation."

She was holding up an x-ray of Bobby's back. There were distinct cracks visible in the ribs as a result of the crash he'd been in, but that was not what had their collective attention. On the left side, apparently attached to the underside of one rib, was what appeared to be a small, rectangular-shaped piece of metal.

Alex looked around at Bobby quizzically.

"Bobby? Do you have any idea what that thing is?"

He didn't answer immediately, his attention focused on the x-ray. When he did eventually respond, there was a tension in his voice that none of them missed.

"I… I don't know what it is." He looked up at Liz. "Can you get it out?"

"I think so," Liz murmured as she peered at the x-ray. "It will have to be done under a general anaesthetic, though. It'll mean admitting you for surgery, and an overnight stay at least."

"Then do it," Bobby said hoarsely. Liz blinked, realising he meant immediately.

"You mean… now?"

"Yes," Bobby answered, his voice rising with agitation. "Now. As soon as possible. Just get it out!"

"Okay," Liz conceded as she slipped the x-ray back into the envelope. "Calm down, Bobby. I'll have to see about OR availability, but I think I might have a chance at slotting you in later this evening. Bobby… are you sure you don't know what that thing is?"

"I'm sure," he whispered. "I… I don't know."

He was starting to look distinctly pale by then, and Liz didn't particularly like the sound of his shallow breathing, either. She was prepared to leave the issue there, when Helen spoke with innocent curiosity.

"Do you know how it got there?"

His reaction was immediate, and dramatic. Bobby went rigid in the bed, his breath coming in rapid gasps as the memories he'd been struggling to suppress exploded to the forefront of his mind and mercilessly overtook his consciousness.

* * *

"_What's going on?" Bobby asked softly as Sydney led him along a corridor. "Where are we going? This isn't the way to the sim room."_

"_No. we're not going there today," Sydney answered placidly. Bobby waited for a further explanation, and when none was forthcoming, he tried again._

"_Sydney, what's happening?"_

"_Just stop, Bobby," Sydney said, with an edge to his voice. "No more questions, please. You'll find out soon enough. Just trust me."_

_Bobby fell silent, almost painfully aware of the foreboding that was building deep in his gut. Trust him, Sydney said. That was rich. He hadn't really trusted Sydney since the good doctor had gone away for the weekend a month ago, leaving him to Raines' sadistic whims. All the same, Bobby complied, and didn't say another word, even though his fearful mind was awash with questions._

_Sydney finally led Bobby into a room that he didn't recognise. Bobby froze just inside the doorway, his heart rate soaring. It was a room with a long, 'T'-shaped, waist-high table that was equipped with leather restraints. _

"_Sydney?" Bobby asked, feeling acutely afraid. "What's going on?"_

"_Just a minor procedure, Bobby," a new voice said. "Nothing to be worried about."_

_Bobby suddenly felt light-headed as Lyle emerged from the shadows. He looked to Sydney in burgeoning panic, but the psychiatrist was looking everywhere but at his charge. Walking over, Lyle patted the table top and offered Bobby his most friendly smile._

"_C'mon, Bobby. How about we do this the easy way, just this once? Because I, for one, would love to get this over with as quickly as possible, and I'm sure you would, too. And I'm sure you'd like to walk away without getting the crap beaten out of you for once. Whaddya say, buddy?"_

_Bobby looked from Lyle, to Sydney, to the table, and then to the eight or more men standing around the room, all watching him with cruel pleasure. It wasn't hard to tell from the looks on most of their faces that he was hoping he'd refuse._

_Just get it over with, he thought numbly. Whatever they had planned for him this time, just cooperate for once, and pray it would be over with quickly._

_Suddenly feeling incredibly tired, Bobby trudged over to the table, and tried to ignore the way Lyle's face lit up._

"_That's great, Bobby," Lyle purred. "You're being smart for once. I like that. Now, take your shirt off, lie face down, and stretch your arms out along the T bar."_

_Bobby did so with extreme reluctance. Then, once he was lying down, the cleaners moved in and began to do up the restraints. His arms, legs, waist, upper torso, shoulder and even his head were locked tightly into restraints, and by the time they were done his fingers, toes, mouth and eyes were the only parts of his body that he was still capable of moving._

_Then, to complete his sense of utter helplessness, Lyle appeared in front of him with a ball gag in hand, and a malicious grin on his face._

"_Open up," he said in as patronising a tone as he could manage. When Bobby refused, Lyle tried again. "Trust me, Bobby. You're going to want something to bite down on. So, open up!"_

_Bobby felt sick to his stomach, but he was in no position to put up a fight now. He opened his mouth, and Lyle jammed the gag in, effectively silencing him. A moment later, he heard a rasping voice that sent chills of fear down his spine._

"_What are you still doing here?"_

"_I'm stay, Raines," Sydney said flatly. "To make sure you only do what the Director has given you permission to do, and nothing more. Now, do it, and get it over with."_

"_Fine," Raines snarled. _

_Silence fell, and a minute later Bobby whimpered faintly as he felt the sharp sting of a syringe in his back._

"_Just relax, Bobby," Raines said in a tone that suggested he really didn't care one way or the other. "It will be a lot easier on you if you just relax."_

_Silence fell, and Bobby was just starting to wonder if maybe it was all just meant to be a major psych out, when cold, sharp steel cut into the flesh of his back. Searing pain flared through his upper body, and a strangled scream of pain escaped his lips through the gag. Then, just as he thought it was as bad as it could get, it got worse still. _

_Bobby's head reeled from the pain, and a fog descended on him, leaving him incoherent and barely aware of anything or anyone around him. _

_Distantly, he was aware of what was going on. He could feel the cold metal of something being pushed through the long incision that had been made in his skin, and felt the sickening pressure as they attached whatever it was to one of his ribs. He was aware of the wound being sutured, and covered with gauze, and of being released from the restraints. _

_He was aware of being dragged unceremoniously off the table, and out of the room, and somewhere between that room and his own room, he finally blacked out._

_When he came back to awareness hours later, it was to a severely aching back, and a fresh deluge of nightmarish memories that he would spend the following days doing his best to suppress_...

* * *

Bobby came back to the present to discover an oxygen mask being held gingerly over his mouth and nose, while a blood pressure strap was wrapped around his upper left arm. Light fingers stroked his hair soothingly, and slowly he became aware of voices all around him. Not the voices of those who were responsible for his ongoing nightmares, but warm, friendly voices.

He tried to force his eyes open, only to realise that they were already open, and that he just wasn't registering anything. For a fleeting, frightening moment, he genuinely thought he'd gone blind. But no – slowly, his sight returned, and he found himself looking up into four concerned faces.

"Welcome back," Liz said as his attention seemed to focus on her. "That was some panic attack you had. I thought I was going to have to sedate you for a moment there."

"Bobby, what was that about?" Alex asked softly, though a part of her really didn't want to know. He couldn't answer immediately, though.

"Need some water," he whispered through the oxygen mask. The mask was removed, and John and Liz both helped him to sit up before Helen handed him a half-filled glass of water. He sipped at it for a couple of minutes, still trembling violently, before making himself answer.

"They put something inside me. I… I don't know what it was. Sydney took me to a room, and they strapped me down onto a table… face down. Raines came, and he injected me with something. If it was supposed to be an anaesthetic, it didn't work. He cut my back open… they put something inside me, and then sewed me back up again."

"Oh dear God," John moaned. Liz stared down at him in horror.

"Wait a second… Are you saying someone performed surgery on you… while you were _awake_?"

He didn't answer verbally. He didn't need to. The look in his eyes, and the evidence in her hand was sufficient.

"Oh my god," Liz whispered.

"Please," Bobby begged her. "Get it out of me. Whatever it is… just get it out."

She needed no more convincing.

"Okay, Bobby," she conceded softly. "Okay."

* * *

Despite what she'd warned them to expect, Liz was both surprised and relieved to find that she could schedule the surgery for just before three, after first learning that Bobby had not been able to bring himself to eat anything, or drink more than a little bit of water, since arriving back in New York. Secondly, there was an opening in one of the OR schedules after someone else's surgery was cancelled.

So, at approximately two o'clock, a nurse came in with forms that Bobby was required to sign, which he did without hesitation. At two-thirty, the same nurse returned to carefully removed the bandages and the immobiliser and, to the amusement of both Alex and her parents, insisted on bathing Bobby's upper body before allowing him some privacy in order to slip on the hospital gown, and a pair of hospital issue scrub pants.

Then, at ten minutes to three, Liz came back with nurses and a gurney, which they had Bobby manoeuvre himself onto, lying on his stomach. While he was lying there, Liz produced a water-based marker and carefully marked out the scar that they were going to have to reopen.

"Do you have to do that?" John asked, somewhat bemused. Liz smiled faintly as she put the marker away.

"I know, it seems ridiculous. But it just makes it easier in the OR."

Alex snorted.

"Like someone who's going to have a limb amputated. They write 'not this one' on the other limb."

Liz chuckled.

"Something like that. Okay, Bobby. Ready?"

"Let's just get it done," he mumbled, his flippant words belying the tension he was experiencing.

"All right," Liz agreed, and nodded to the nurses. "Let's get this show on the road." And then, to Alex, John and Helen, "Don't worry. I'll have him back here before you know it."

And then they were gone.

"He'll be fine, Lexie," John murmured as his daughter sank down into one of the visitor's chairs.

"I hope you're right," Alex whispered, taking what small comfort she could from her father's protective embrace.

* * *

And that was how Deakins found them when he arrived there twenty minutes later, waiting in steadily increasing anxiety for Liz to come back and tell them how it had gone.

"So…" Deakins said with a frown after they'd finished bringing him up to date. "There was actually something _inside_ him? Attached to his rib?"

"But we don't know what," Alex said tiredly. "If Bobby knows what it is, he wasn't letting on."

"Did his doctor say how long she expected this to take?" Deakins wondered.

"She thought maybe half an hour… Forty-five minutes at the most," John answered. "It's just been twenty minutes now."

"Captain, Bobby told us that they…"

Alex trailed off, unable to finish the sentence. Deakins looked to John questioningly, and he finished off what Alex had tried to say.

"He said they operated on him without anaesthetic. That whatever it is that's inside him, they cut him open and put it in there while he was still awake."

"Sons of bitches," Deakins whispered, shaken. He looked to Alex. "Who, exactly? Did he tell you?"

"All three of them were involved," Alex replied, hatred in her voice. "Raines, Lyle _and_ Sydney." She laughed bitterly. "And Jarod wanted Bobby to forgive him!"

"I think Jarod had given up on hoping for that by the time we left," Deakins assured her. "He wasn't feeling to kindly towards Sydney himself at the end."

"Who is this Sydney?" John wondered, and Alex answered in a harsh voice.

"He's one of the bastards who held Bobby captive… treated him like his own personal lab rat."

"I have pictures of him and the other two, Raines and Lyle," Deakins told him and Helen. "Remind me to show them to you, so that if any of them turn up, you'll recognise them."

"It really isn't over yet, is it?" Helen asked, and Alex shook her head furiously.

"No. It won't really be over until all three of them are dead."

Deakins was saved from having to comment by Liz's return. She smiled at the captain briefly in greeting before holding up a jar with an inch and a half long piece of metal enclosed.

"Well, here it is."

Alex walked over and took it from her, peering at it with a deep frown.

"Lexie?" John asked. "What is it?"

She didn't answer immediately, her gaze locked on the offending item in the jar. Finally, she looked back up at Liz, her face pale.

"Is this what I think it is?"

Liz nodded.

"I'm pretty sure it is. Although, I swear, I felt like I was in the middle of a science fiction film… or maybe a conspiracy theory."

Alex turned and held the jar out to Deakins, who took it with some caution. A moment later, he sucked in a sharp breath.

"Those sons of bitches… This is how Lyle found him yesterday!"

"Lexie?" John asked again, and Alex looked back at him grimly.

"It's a tracking device. The bastards implanted a tracking device inside Bobby's body."

* * *

_tbc..._


	32. Confessions in the Night

A/N: _This was a particularly difficult chapter to write, for a number of reasons. It seemed to grow more and more complicated with every passing day. However, this is how it turned out and I, for one, am satisfied with it. Here's hoping the length and the quality make up for the wait._

_In light of the recent episode 'Brother's Keeper', I've amended the chapters in this fic that refer to Bobby's brother, and changed his name to Frank in accordance with Bobby's canon back-story. _

_Also, to those anonymous critics who have been 'instructing' me on how the characters should act, and informing me that they will have no credibility if I write them as acting in any way other than you believe they should act – this is a work of fiction. Specifically, MY work of fiction. If you don't like what the lead characters are doing, or the decisions they make, then feel free to stop reading. I hope you don't, and can just enjoy the story as it continues to form, but please – if you're going to criticise, at least have the courtesy to include an email address so that I can respond to your criticisms if I so wish._

_

* * *

_

"Excuse me?" Mike asked incredulously when Deakins returned to the squad room, and told them of the latest discovery. "Did you just say... a device? So... they micro chipped him?"

Deakins shook his head, and brought out the device, which he'd taken with him from the hospital. He handed it over to Mike, who stared at it in disgust before passing it to Carolyn.

"That," the captain said grimly, "is no microchip."

"Shit," Mike muttered. "Is it still working?"

"We don't know," Deakins admitted. "I want you to take it down to CSU, and have them check it out."

"Why?" Carolyn asked, puzzled. "Why not just destroy it?"

"Because if it is still functioning, then we may be able to use it to our advantage."

"How? By planting it somewhere? Or on someone else? It won't take them long to figure that out."

"Oh, I see it now," Mike snorted. "We'll catch a stray mutt... or maybe plant it on a squirrel in Central Park. And then let them go nuts trying to work out why their signal keeps going around and around in circles..."

Deakins chuckled softly.

"As tempting as that idea is, I was thinking more in terms of sending one of our people off with it to lead the sons of bitches on a wild goose chase around the country. If we can buy even just a month or two out of it..."

"That's pretty slim, Captain," Mike said, his smirk fading.

"I know," Deakins agreed. "But I'll do anything to keep Bobby safe... Even if it seems like a pointless thing to do."

"Anything's worth trying," Carolyn agreed. "And speaking of which, shouldn't we be looking at placing Bobby somewhere more secure? If that thing is still functioning, then wouldn't it be reasonable to assume that the Centre would know where to find him by now?"

"You may be right," Deakins conceded. "In fact, you probably are right, Carolyn. "But I've left that decision to Alex and her parents to make. They were talking it over when I left the hospital to come back here... although 'talking' is probably a dubious way of putting it. I don't think John and Helen were too pleased with the idea of not having Bobby stay with them."

"Even if it puts them in danger?" Carolyn asked incredulously, and both the captain and her partner nodded in response.

"Carolyn, you have to remember that John Eames is still a cop. He's retired, but he is still a cop. More than that, he's old school, and loyalty is everything. To John, Bobby is a cop in need of help, and that's all he needs to know. The fact that Bobby is his daughter's partner is purely incidental."

"I do understand that," Carolyn assured him. "It's just so dangerous. I can't imagine Alex being willing see her mom and dad in danger."

"She doesn't," Deakins answered. "It was Alex who raised the possibility of finding a safe house for Bobby until other arrangements have been made. But as I said, it's up to them to work it out. If they decide it's too risky for Bobby to stay with John and Helen, then I'll arrange a safe house. On the other hand, if John and Helen win out, then I'll organise for a twenty-four/seven watch on their place, in case of trouble."

"I just can't see Alex losing that argument," Carolyn said quietly.

"There's one factor you haven't considered, though," Mike put in, drawing both Carolyn and Deakins' attention.

"What's that, Mike?" Deakins asked wearily.

"This whole safe house idea," Mike answered. "You put Bobby in a safe house, and you'll effectively be locking him up all over again. You can try to put any spin on it that you like, but it's still locking him up. Have you stopped for even a second to think how Bobby might react to that?"

The looks on their faces told him that they hadn't. Finally, Deakins sighed and sat back heavily.

"Let's just wait and see what Alex says when she calls."

* * *

Bobby awoke to the sound of voices raised in anger, and for a brief moment the blood in his veins froze as his mind took him back to the many times he'd woken in the hospital wing of the Centre, to the sound of Raines and Sydney arguing over effective methods of dealing with him. Gradually, though, it registered in his weary mind that he was not in the Centre anymore, and that the voices he was hearing belonged not to Sydney and Raines, but to Alex and her parents.

He wondered dimly what could have happened to have them arguing so vehemently with each other, but with recognition of their voices came cohesive and ordered thought, and he finally understood what they were arguing about. Or rather, who.

"Alex, we understand your concerns, but we don't need protecting!" John was saying, and he sounded angry enough that Bobby physically winced.

"Against these people, you do," Alex snapped back. "You don't understand what they're capable of!"

"Honey, I think we have a fair idea," Helen argued. "We've seen how Bobby is..."

"Mom, please, don't. You didn't see him the night we rescued him. He was almost catatonic, and he clung to me like... well, like Nathan does. And... you haven't seen any of the sim discs. Until you've seen those, you can't begin to imagine what those bastards are capable of. You... You just can't."

"Alex," John said in a forcibly calm voice, "I really don't believe he'll be any safer shut away in some hotel room somewhere... or whatever constitutes a safe house these days... as opposed to our home. And staying with us, he's at least with people who care about him."

Alex made a sound that Bobby distinctly recalled her making on a semi-frequent basis; usually whenever he was being a stubborn idiot. He almost smiled, except for the realisation that they were seriously talking about locking him away in a safe house somewhere.

Panic and dismay struck at the same moment, and he forced his way past the lingering drowsiness caused by the anaesthetic, and managed to open his eyes.

* * *

"Do you two want to put a lid on it?" Helen asked quietly. "Our boy's awake."

Alex and John both ceased their argument instantly, turning instead to Bobby.

"Hey," Alex murmured. "How are you feeling?"

"Tired," he mumbled in answer. "Did they get it...?"

"Yeah, they got it, son," John confirmed. "It's gone, completely."

"What... what was it?"

Alex gently stroked his forehead.

"You already know, don't you? I don't really need to say it, do I?"

Bobby sighed softly.

"It was a bug of some sort... wasn't it? To... To track me."

"Yes," Alex confirmed, feeling sick at the sight of the anguish in his brown eyes. "It was. And we figure now that that was how Lyle found you yesterday morning."

"Son of a bitch," Bobby mumbled, but there was little emotion in his voice. "So... They might know I'm back in New York."

"It's possible," Alex agreed with some reluctance.

"Try not to worry about it just at the moment," Helen said. "Now, you'll have to stay here overnight, sweetheart, but I promise that one of us will be with you, around the clock. We're not leaving you alone."

Bobby seemed to pay no heed to Helen's words, though. Instead, he stared up at Alex with an intensity that made her want to cringe.

"You... You promised."

Confusion filled her face.

"What do you mean?"

He drew in a shaky breath.

"You... promised me you wouldn't leave me out..."

"Leave you out?" Alex echoed, more confused than ever. With some difficulty, Bobby elaborated.

"Out of the... the decision-making."

An instant later, Alex realised what he was talking about, and her cheeks reddened visibly. He was right, of course. She had promised that he would not be left out when there were important decisions to be made regarding his welfare, and yet that was exactly what she was doing right now.

"I'm sorry, Bobby," she apologised. "Really... but this is serious."

"I get it," he mumbled, not quite meeting her gaze. "Having me around will put them in danger. I... I don't want that anymore than you do. Tell Deakins to organise a safe house."

"Hold on just a second there," John growled. "Just hang on! Don't Helen and I get a chance to have a say in this?"

Bobby raised his eyes slowly to meet John's.

"I don't want to put you in danger," he insisted softly. John frowned a little for a moment, considering what to say next, before turning and looking around at Alex and Helen.

"Would you ladies excuse us for a few minutes? I want to talk to Bobby, man to man."

Helen nodded.

"Of course. Alex, let's go and get some coffee."

Alex hesitated for just a moment, frowning darkly, before she finally conceded and followed her mother out. John waited until the door swung closed before looking back to Bobby.

"I can understand Alex's point of view. She's worried about you, and about her mother and me. She's trying hard to find a way to protect all of us. I can also understand you wanting to go along with her. Maybe you don't want to rock the boat. Maybe you honestly think it's the right thing to do. But I'm going to ask you a question now, Bobby, and I want a straight and honest answer from you. No 'ifs' or 'buts'. Just be straight with me. Tell me, what do _you_ want to do?"

Bobby shuddered, struggling to keep his emotions in check. In his mind, the right thing to do would be to say that he didn't want to stay with John and Helen any longer, and that he'd feel more secure in a safe house. But that was a lie, and it was a lie that he couldn't maintain.

"I… I want to stay with you," he stammered finally. "I don't want to go into a safe house."

John regarded him critically.

"Why not?"

Bobby's breath caught in his throat. Why not, indeed… After a long moment's consideration, he could think of only one thing to say.

"I don't want to be locked up again."

That, perhaps, was more poignant an argument than any that John could have thought up, and he felt his stomach twist almost painfully at the realisation that that fear was still acutely present within Bobby's mind.

"Okay," he murmured softly, his words tinged with sympathy. "That's all I need to hear. Now, I'll go get Alex and Helen, and we'll talk this through properly. And for the record, son, Helen and I want you to stay with us. We consider it a privilege to be able to help you, and we're not going to be easily frightened out of doing that."

Bobby watched, his heart pounding and his eyes stinging with unshed tears, as John disappeared from the room. He lay in silence, feeling sick to his stomach as the minutes ticked by. The rational, logical part of his mind knew that John had to go to the cafeteria three floors down to get Alex and Helen, but another less rational part of his mind whispered that they'd all just decided that he wasn't worth the time or the effort.

It was all too easy to plant fear and doubt in his own mind, and before long he'd convinced himself that they weren't coming back. He was just contemplating getting himself up and dressed when the door swung open, and John came back in, followed closely by Alex and Helen.

Alex immediately went to Bobby's side, taking in his stricken expression with a sad understanding.

"You thought we weren't coming back."

It wasn't a question, and Bobby didn't pull away when Alex wrapped her arms around him in a fierce, protective embrace. Instead, he leaned into the embrace, taking what comfort he could from the contact. Alex sighed softly.

"I'm sorry. Dad told us what you said… about being locked up again. I never thought about it like that."

"I know it'd be for the best," Bobby mumbled, his voice muffled by her sweater. "But… just the thought of being shut in… Not being able to go anywhere… or do anything… It'd be just like being back in the Centre. And… I don't think I could stand that. Not even for a day."

"I understand," Alex whispered. "You can stay with Mom and Dad. I'll tell Deakins, and he'll just have to organise extra security."

"I'm sorry…"

"No," Helen cut in fiercely. "Don't you apologise for this. It is not your fault."

"Helen's right," John agreed. "This isn't your fault, Bobby. You can't take the blame for it. We won't let you."

Bobby regarded them bemusedly.

"You're banning me from feeling guilty…?"

"Damn straight," John retorted. "There's no guilt in this family."

Bobby didn't respond verbally to that, but the look in his eyes spoke in volumes. Alex saw it, and interpreted it correctly.

"You're part of this family," she confirmed, hugging him all the more fiercely. "Don't ever forget it, okay?"

He nodded, shutting his eyes and finally relaxing in her embrace as he accepted with no small amount of relief that he would be able to continue living with Alex and her parents until such a time as his own apartment was finally ready for habitation once more.

* * *

"The safe house idea is nixed," Mike said as he dropped into his seat across from Carolyn. She sighed heavily, and abandoned all pretence of doing her work.

"I figured that might happen. You were right, it would have effectively meant locking him up again. That would have just been plain wrong."

"Exactly," Mike murmured. "But now we've got to arrange a watch for Alex's parents' place. Just in case. Man, this shit is complicated."

"But necessary," Carolyn reminded him. "We can't let him be taken again, Mike."

"I know. I just wish it could be over and done with, and we could just get back to life as it was before all this crap happened."

Silence met that remark, and he looked up to find his partner staring at him in sombre silence.

"What?" he asked, feeling defensive all of a sudden. Carolyn frowned intently at him.

"Think about what you just said, Mike."

"What? What did I say?"

"You said you wanted things to go back to how they were before."

"Yeah. So?"

"So, do you think that Bobby will ever be able to get back to being how he was before all this started? To how he was before his father sold him to those bastards when he was seven? Everything's changed for him, Mike. It's never, ever going to be the same, and you ought to know that! So our lives have been disrupted a little. That's not such a big deal, is it?"

He raised an eyebrow at her.

"This is pretty rich, coming from the woman who didn't even want to take part in the rescue to begin with."

Raw anger flashed across Carolyn's face, and she stood up so quickly that her chair nearly fell over backwards.

"You know something, Logan? Screw you!"

She started past him, intent on heading for the ladies' room, but he stopped her in her tracks with a well-placed arm around her waist. She gasped, and a moment later found herself seated firmly in his lap.

"Mike, are you out of your mind…?"

"I'm not letting you up until we sort this out," he growled, "so you might as just relax and enjoy it."

She responded with a solid thump to his shoulder, which only drew a wide grin from him. Before either one had any further opportunity to say anything, though, the sound of coughing behind them drew their attention. Mike swung around in his chair, not releasing his hold on Carolyn, and they found one of their fellow detectives standing there, eyeing them in amusement.

"New interrogation technique, Logan?" David Ash queried lightly. Mike grinned, not loosening his grip on his partner.

"We're having a discussion, Ash," he answered. Ash raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah, sure you are. And you'll be having another one inside the captain's office, with the door closed, if he happens to come out here and see the two of you like this."

With that, Carolyn drove her elbow back into Mike's gut. The contact surprised Mike, rather than winded him, and his grip loosened on Carolyn just enough for her to pull away.

"Smart ass," she grumbled, but at the same time was having trouble hiding a grin of her own. Mike winked at her, and then looked back to Ash.

"Did you want something, Ash?"

"Actually, it wasn't just me," Ash said, suddenly looking uncomfortable. "We… all of us… we were wondering…"

"About…?" Carolyn prompted him when he hesitated. The detective shifted nervously from one foot to the other.

"Well, about Goren."

The speed with which their smiles dropped away left Ash feeling as though he should have been running for the hills, but he stood his ground, and braced himself for an explosion. It didn't come.

"What is it you all want to know?" Mike asked in a noticeably more subdued tone. "And don't you dare ask if he's got all his faculties, because he has."

"We weren't wondering that, man," Ash assured him. He paused, and then pulled a chair across and sat down. "Look, you guys all arrived back this morning. You went to meet with the Commissioner, Deakins has been in and out of meetings all day, Eames took off just after lunch… None of us were game to ask anything, you know? But we're all wondering… how is he? Jeffries said he might not remember any of us."

"He might not," Carolyn confirmed. "At least, not to begin with. But that's not his fault, and it's not due to brain damage, or anything like that. He's been gone for eleven months, and the crap that he went through… He needed every scrap of mental strength he had to survive it. It was a little much for him to remember everyone here at the same time."

"We're not insulted, Barek," Ash told her. "The thing is, we just want to know if he's okay. Or, if he's _going to be_ okay."

Mike and Carolyn exchanged glances.

"We think he will be," Carolyn answered finally. "He might not ever be the same as he was… but we think he will eventually be okay."

"That's good to know," Ash murmured. "Do you think he might come in some time soon? We'd all like to see him."

"Maybe not quite yet," Mike said. "I don't know if it's so much that he's not up to it mentally, but physically. He had a run-in yesterday morning with one of the bastards that took him, and he got beat up pretty badly. Alex's folks had to take him to Mt Sinai this morning for x-rays and scans."

Ash sucked in a sharp breath.

"So, those assholes are still after him?"

"Yeah, they are," Mike answered. "That's one thing you can all do. Keep an eye out for anyone who suspect. We're not taking any chances this time. We're not losing him to them again."

"I'll tell them all," Ash promised, getting up quickly. "If any of those fucks from the Centre try to grab Bobby again, they'll regret it."

"And Deakins is going to want to talk to you all about putting a watch on John and Helen Eames' place," Carolyn added quickly as Ash started to move away from them. "Just for extra security."

Ash nodded enthusiastically.

"We can start organising a roster now. Thanks."

"What are they thanking us for?" Carolyn wondered bemusedly as Ash hurried away.

"They want to be involved," Mike said with a shrug. "It's as simple as that."

"It's never that simple," Carolyn mused, but Mike shook his head.

"Yeah, it is. Most of them never got a chance to really help out the last time. We've just told them the Centre is still after Bobby. What we've done is just present them with the possibility of them being able to help in a real, practical way. They're gonna take whatever opportunity there is to keep Bobby safe… just like us."

Carolyn pulled a face.

"You know, I almost feel sorry for anyone the Centre sends after Bobby. At the rate we're going, they'll be lucky to walk away with their lives."

Mike's expression darkened noticeably, and when he spoke, there was no hint of amusement in his tone.

"With any luck, they won't."

* * *

John Eames sat slumped in the armchair beside Bobby's hospital bed, tired but unable to sleep. It had been agreed by all of them that they couldn't leave Bobby alone in the hospital. Concerns of danger had less to do with the decision, though, than the simple fact that they didn't care to leave Bobby alone in an environment that, despite all intents and purposes, still clearly reminded him of the Centre. None of them wanted him to wake up through the night, alone and terrified, potentially not knowing where he was.

They had no illusions that their presence would stop his nightmares, but at least there would be someone there to reassure him if he did had a nightmare. John fervently hoped he wouldn't, and the sedative pills that Liz Bauer had instructed the nurses to give him should have ensured that. However, John had his suspicions that Bobby had pulled a fast one on the nurses, and hadn't taken the pills at all.

He supposed he could understand Bobby's point of view there. He didn't want to be in a position where he might be caught unawares; not to mention he clearly had what John suspected were some fairly serious traumas over being drugged. Still, it seemed a little foolish to reject the possibility of a good night's sleep when he was safe in a hospital room, with a police guard stationed at the entrance to the ward.

Fed up with the uncomfortable chair, John got up and wandered over to look out the window. The streets of New York were never completely still and quiet, even in the wee small hours, and he could see people moving around down at street level. His sharp eyes searched for anyone who might have looked as though they were taking an unusual amount of interest in the hospital, but he could see no one who fitted that profile.

The faint sounds of whimpering drew his attention back to the bed, and its occupant. Turning away from the window, John made his way back over to the bedside just as Bobby started to twist and moan in his sleep. Deciding against waiting for the bad dream to erupt into a full blown nightmare, John reached across and gave the younger man a gentle shake.

Bobby awoke with a start, his breath catching in his throat as he stared blindly up at the ceiling of the darkened room. For several long seconds it seemed to John that he wasn't seeing anything at all. Then, slowly, he blinked hard and turned his head. John felt a rush of relief as Bobby's brown eyes focused on him.

"You were having a bad dream," John told him softly by way of explanation. "I figured I'd wake you up before it turned into a real nightmare."

A sigh escaped Bobby's lips, and he relaxed visibly.

"Thankyou."

"Well," John murmured, "I couldn't see the point in letting it go on. Wouldn't have achieved anything." He paused, watching as Bobby shifted uncomfortably in the narrow bed. There was barely enough room for him to move an inch in any direction, let alone actually get into a comfortable position. "How's the back?" he asked quietly as he noticed Bobby wince.

"Want to… sit up…" Bobby mumbled in audible irritation.

"Okay," John conceded, and leaned in close to allow Bobby to use him for leverage to pull himself up into a sitting position.

"Thanks," Bobby mumbled again, gratefully accepting the glass of water that John then offered him.

"Are you hungry?" John wondered. It had occurred to him that Bobby had eaten nothing since arriving back in New York early the previous morning. "Dr Bauer said it'd be okay for you to have something to eat if you wanted. I think she had the nurses store some sandwiches in the fridge for you, in case you woke up hungry."

Bobby wanted to say no, that he wasn't hungry, but his body clearly had other ideas. He was very neatly circumvented by a distinct growling from his stomach before he could so much as shake his head in response to John's query. Bobby reddened noticeably in the dark, but conceded with a reluctant nod.

"I… I guess I am kind of hungry," he admitted. John smiled faintly.

"Okay, then. I'll be right back."

* * *

When John returned a few minutes later with a plate of sandwiches and a glass of fresh orange juice, he was surprised to find Bobby had gotten himself out of bed, and was now standing at the window. Setting the plate and the glass down carefully on the mobile table, John joined him in staring out at the dark night.

"What's on your mind, son?"

Bobby glanced sideways at the older man, curiosity in his eyes. Even with his state of mind being what it was, it hadn't escaped his notice that John had taken to referring to him as 'son'. Though he said nothing for or against it, Bobby found himself liking the feelings that it stirred in him. It gave him a feeling of belonging, and being wanted. They were feelings that he'd never gotten from his own father, and it warmed him that John seemed to be willing, more now than ever before, to step into that role and be a father figure to him.

"I… I was just reassuring myself that I'll actually be able to walk out of here in the morning. That they're not… not going to try and keep me here indefinitely."

John snorted at that, much to Bobby's amusement.

"They wouldn't dare try. I think Dr Bauer is smart enough to not to want to risk my daughter's wrath. And we both know how frightening Alex can be when she's angry."

A ghost of a smile passed fleetingly across Bobby's face. Relieved to have gotten a smile out of him, John patted him lightly on the back.

"Come and sit down. Have something to eat."

Bobby nodded, but before he had a chance to move away from the window, his gaze locked onto something down at street level, and he froze. Down on the street, barely visible in the under the dim street lamps, was a distinctive female figure. Though even Bobby couldn't make out her features in that light and from that distance, what he could make out was the way she held something… like a lollipop… in her mouth as she looked up, seemingly straight at him.

Bobby's knees nearly buckled beneath him, and it took a great deal of effort and determination on his part simply to stay on his feet. Every instinct screamed _run! hide!_ But he couldn't move, not an inch.

John was halfway across the room when he realised Bobby hadn't retreated from the window with him. He looked back, puzzled, and that puzzlement turned into genuine fear at the sight of Bobby standing rigid and barely breathing – on the brink of a fresh panic attack.

"Bobby?" John asked, hurrying back to his side. "What's wrong?"

Bobby didn't answer. His gaze was locked on someone… or something far below that John couldn't make out. A hoarse whisper escaped his lips, but it was too soft for John to be able to clearly understand. He thought Bobby had whispered 'It's her', but he couldn't be certain. Finally, he laid a hand firmly on Bobby's arm and squeezed just hard enough to jolt the other man back to reality and force him to look away from the window.

"What's wrong?" John asked again in a firm voice. "What can you see down there?"

"It's her," Bobby said again, this time more clearly, and John could hear the stark fear in his voice as he spoke.

"Who?" John pressed. "Who's there?"

"Br…"

He stopped, the name going unspoken as he looked back out the window. The street below was empty, with not a soul in sight.

"Th… There was someone down there," he stammered finally, sounding hopelessly confused. "A woman… Down by the street light…"

"Do you want me to send the guard out to look around?" John asked. Bobby hesitated in answering, searching for signs of mocking and disbelief in John's face. There were none. He said he'd seen someone down there, and so John didn't doubt it. But even as he stared down at the now empty street, Bobby found himself doubting what he'd seen, and wondering whether he'd just imagined it. After all, he'd only looked away for a second; how could she have vanished so fast?

"No," he whispered finally, feeling sick and frightened, and hating that he felt that way. "I… I guess I was just…"

He couldn't bring himself to say the obvious, and John wasn't going to say it for him. Instead, he urged Bobby to come away from the window, and back over to the bed.

"Come and sit down, Bobby. You need to eat something."

Bobby didn't object as John guided him back to the bed.

For the next few minutes, silence reigned as Bobby slowly devoured the sandwiches on the plate. He was just nibbling on the last couple of quarters when John asked a question.

"Tell me something, Bobby. Is this anything like where you were kept?"

Bobby paused, staring at John for a long moment before shaking his head and setting the sandwich down on the plate.

"No. For starters, this room has windows."

"You didn't have a window?" John asked, though he wasn't particularly surprised by that revelation. Prisoners generally weren't allowed that sort of consideration.

"Only if you count the ventilation duct. I was kept underground. They never took me to the upper levels, and they never let me go outside."

_Which explains why you look like some of those sorry bastards that get themselves locked up in solitary for months at a time,_ John thought grimly, though he didn't say it out loud.

"Sons of bitches," he muttered instead, and felt the words were woefully inadequate to emphasise how he felt about what he was hearing.

"And the room… My room," Bobby went on softly. His gaze was fixed on his hands, which clenched and unclenched with incessant anxiety. "It was small… just big enough for a bed, a toilet and a sink, and a desk and chair. The… The cells in Rikers are bigger than my room was."

John sighed.

"I wish I could say that I understand, but I don't. I don't know what it's like to be locked away… and for my freedom to be stolen from me like that."

Bobby raised his eyes slowly to meet John's gaze.

"It was like having my soul sucked out of me. I don't really know which was worse, being sold to the Centre when I was a boy or being abducted by them as an adult."

John blinked, staring at Bobby in shock.

"Sold…? What do you mean, you were _sold_ to the Centre? How? And by who?"

It suddenly occurred to Bobby at that point that Alex had, in truth, told her parents very little of his history with the Centre. He considered briefly just how much he was willing… and able… to talk about, and was surprised to discover that he felt that he _could _talk about it to John.

"I don't remember a lot of it," he admitted. "But I do remember the night that Sydney and Raines came and took me away. Dad tried to convince me that I was just going on a holiday, but he knew I wasn't ever supposed to leave that place. Not alive. He, um… He let them take me away in exchange for them paying for Mom's treatment, and for him and Frank to be looked after."

John was silent, staggered by the callous disregard that Goren Snr had displayed for his youngest son. It was inconceivable to him that any man could do to a child what Bobby's father had done to him. It had been bad enough to think that the man had walked out on a sick wife and two children, but this was beyond anything he had previously imagined.

"Bobby, how long were you in that place for when you were a boy?"

"Five years," Bobby answered, his voice barely more than a whisper. Icy cold waves of shock swept through John's body, and he marvelled that he wasn't sick on the spot. He could see with his own eyes the mere tip of the physical, mental and emotional damage that had been done after only nine months. It left him staggered that Bobby had survived there as a child for five years.

"And… when you eventually went home again… How did your father react?"

A small, bitter smile touched Bobby's lips.

"He'd left by then… In his words, he was taking some time-out from Mom… but he was still making a show of _being there_ for Frank. You know, being the supportive father… Which was bullshit, because that was the one thing he'd never been. His whole life he'd only ever lived for himself. When Major Charles took me home again, it must have been the first Christmas after he walked out, because he showed up on Christmas Day. It was the only Christmas he came home for after walking out. It was just before noon when we arrived…"

* * *

_Bobby remained in the car, even after it had pulled up in front of the house. Charles watched him for nearly a minute before speaking._

"_Aren't you going to get out, Bobby?"_

_The twelve year-old boy looked around at the man who had protected him and taken care of him for the last six months, and it was all Charles could do not to cringe. The haunted look in Bobby's eyes was almost physically painful to see, and it was something that Charles had not been successful in ridding the boy of. His haunted eyes, and the nightmares that frequently had him screaming out in the middle of the night, seemed to be there to stay._

"_I don't remember this place."_

"_I showed you pictures of it, remember?"_

"_I know, but I still don't remember it."_

_Charles bit back a sigh. _

"_You don't have to be frightened, Bobby. It's going to be okay. Now, why don't we start by just getting out of the car, and going up to the front door? I'll be right there with you, just like I promised I would be."_

_It looked as though Bobby was going to refuse, and Charles was just debating over what to do when the boy suddenly threw the car door open and climbed out. Hurrying to catch up, Charles quickly got out and strode around the car to join him._

"_Ready?" he asked, and Bobby threw him a glance that clearly said 'no'. Clapping the boy lightly on the shoulder, Charles urged him forward._

_They came to the door and Charles was just raising his fist to knock when Bobby spoke softly, scathingly._

"_If this is my parents' home, then why are we knocking?"_

"_They haven't seen you for a long time, Bobby. I don't think we want to give them a heart attack by simply walking in there."_

_He paused, expecting further protests, but none were forthcoming. He rapped firmly on the door before he had a chance to lose **his** nerve. There was a long silence, and then a man's voice shouted from within._

"_Goddamnit, Frances, just go see who's at the fucking door!"_

_Beside him, Charles felt Bobby go rigid at the sound of that voice. He wondered just what memories might have surfaced within the boy, but the door was flung open before he had the opportunity to ask._

_Frances Goren froze in the doorway, anything she'd been intending to say dying on her lips as she stared at the tall boy that stood before her. Silence reigned, and both mother and son were still trying to find their voices when that other angry voice spoke again._

"_Who the hell is it? If it's the Salvo's, tell 'em we gave already!"_

_The harsh, angry words seemed to break Frances out of her reverie, and she gasped audibly._

"_Oh my god... Bobby... Is that really you?"_

_Bobby, who up to that point had been staring at Frances with the faintest of frowns, suddenly smiled softly._

"_Hi, Mom."_

_Before either had a chance to move towards the other, though, a big bear of a man appeared and shoved Frances roughly to the side._

"_What the hell is going on? Who...?"_

_He trailed off, his face draining of blood in the space of just a few seconds as he stared at Bobby._

"_No way..." he whispered hoarsely, looking for all the world as though he'd seen a ghost. And Charles supposed that, for all intents and purposes, he had. "No fucking way... You shouldn't be here... You little bastard, you ran away, didn't you? That's why they quit paying me!"_

_Charles stepped forward and placed himself squarely between Frank Goren Snr and Bobby, even as the other man started towards his son in an almost explosive fit of anger. All of a sudden, he had serious reservations about leaving Bobby here, but at the same time he really had no alternative. Instead, he spoke in as severe a tone as he could muster._

"_Mr Goren, that is no way to greet your son."_

_Frank Snr blanched visibly and his gaze lifted to the face of the man who was now standing between him and his son._

"_Who the fuck are you?"_

_Charles glared right back at him. _

"_I'm the man who is bringing your son home to you."_

"_Frank, move!" Frances burst out, and pushed him fiercely aside. An instant later, Bobby found himself wrapped up in a ferocious hug._

"_My baby boy... You've come home! You've come home..."_

_And the next thing, she ushered him into the house. _

"_Mr Goren," Charles said in a low, dangerous voice, "don't even think about contacting the Centre to tell them Bobby is here. You **are** being watched, so I strongly recommend that you do the right thing by your son."_

_Frank Snr glanced back into the house, a sour look on his face._

"_Fine. Little bastard isn't my problem anymore, anyway."_

_And before Charles could ask what he meant, Frank Snr shoved past and walked away down the path, not looking back once..._

_

* * *

_

Bobby shuddered a little, and pushed the remaining sandwich quarters away, suddenly finding himself lacking in appetite.

"When Mom realised Dad had gone, she pretty much forgot I was there. And as for my brother, Frank... He lit into me because I 'drove Dad off'. I spent my first week back home sleeping on the sofa, because that's how long it took Mom to convince Frank to let me back into our bedroom. According to him, I didn't belong there anymore, and I should never have come back. And he never forgave me for Dad walking out that day." A small, bitter smile touched Bobby's lips. "Dad never came anywhere near the house again after that, so I guess Frank was right after all. It was my fault."

John sighed and scrubbed at his face with his hands.

"Bobby, that was not your fault. Your coming back was just the excuse that he used. If he'd done the right thing by you, you would never have fallen into the Centre's hands in the first place. None of it was your fault. You can't believe that it was."

"Intellectually and logically, I can believe that," Bobby conceded. "But..."

"Emotionally, you're not so certain," John concluded, and Bobby nodded.

"Yes," he whispered. John reached across and laid a hand on the other man's left shoulder.

"We can't change the past, Bobby, but we can at least try to make the present and the future better. I know that Helen and I can't replace your parents, but I hope you believe me when I tell you that we were never so happy as when Alex called and told us they were bringing you home."

"She... She said you insisted I stay with you."

"That's true," John agreed. "We did. You're part of this family, son. Don't ever doubt that, or how grateful we are to have you back."

The faintest of sighs escaped Bobby.

"Thankyou."

Silence fell for a while, and Bobby was just considering trying to go back to sleep when John spoke again.

"Bobby, can I ask you a question?"

"I... I guess," Bobby stammered. Again, John paused, as though considering his words before he spoke.

"When that first doctor came... yesterday morning... You were doing okay, until he asked you to strip off. What was going through your mind, then? Because that was one hell of a panic attack you had."

"I... I'm sorry."

John squeezed his shoulder reassuringly.

"Don't apologise, Bobby. Just, try and talk to me, son."

Tears filled Bobby's eyes and spilled down his cheeks, but he couldn't bring himself to speak. Finally, John decided to ask what he hoped would be a less painful question.

"Well... Who was it that you believed you say down on the street?"

Bobby's breath caught in his throat. Of all the questions he thought he could have anticipated, that was definitely not on the list. John went on softly.

"I'm not trying to pry. I'm only asking because you seemed genuinely terrified for a second there, and I'd like to know who I should be looking out for."

Try as he might, Bobby couldn't argue with that logic. Still, it wasn't quite as easy as that. He was cloaked in silence while he tried to make up his mind over what to tell John.

"Brigitte," he whispered dismally. "Her name's Brigitte."

John quickly searched his memory, but he didn't recall that name as being one mentioned by Alex, or any of them.

"Can you describe her?"

"Um... Short... Maybe a little taller than Alex... Bleach-blonde, usually speaks with a British accent... but she's not British. She... She's manipulative... cruel... cunning... She's just as evil as Lyle."

And that was saying something, John thought grimly, though he didn't say it out loud.

"She tormented you as well, didn't she?"

Bobby shuddered.

"Y... Yes. I... I don't know if it was Lyle's idea or not, but I know he was in on it. I... I'm pretty sure he was watching, at least."

John felt a distinct chill. He had a sudden, horrible suspicion that Bobby was no longer talking about the typical psychological or even physical torment that had been inflicted on him by Raines, Lyle and Sydney.

"What did she do to you, Bobby?" John asked as gently as he could, so as not to appear confrontational to Bobby.

By then, Bobby's breath was catching in his throat. He no longer appeared to be seeing anything, and it suddenly occurred to John that this was the same distressed state into which Bobby had so rapidly descended in the hospital's clinic, before Liz Bauer had arrived. He realised with some irony that they'd come back to the first question he'd asked – why the panic attack over being asked to undress?

After lengthy minutes of silence, John was just about to tell Bobby it was okay, and that he didn't have to answer. But then, Bobby seemed to gather his courage and, with his gaze fixed firmly on his hands, he spoke in a soft, miserable silence.

"I was taken out of my room. It was in the middle of the night… Whenever they came for me in the middle of the night, I knew it was for something particularly bad. I thought Lyle wanted me, but I wasn't taken to Lyle. I was taken to Brigitte. I… I hadn't had any contact with her before, but Miss Parker had warned me about her. She'd told me not to trust her… but Brigitte was kind to me. She told the guards to leave, and she sat me down. We… We just talked. She didn't ask me to do anything. She didn't treat me badly. That time, I had an open cut from Raines' last experiment. She… She dressed it herself, and she gave me something to eat, when I hadn't had anything for two days. Raines… He liked to let me go hungry. He thought it would make me more inclined to cooperate. Brigitte let me have food… She made out like it was our secret, although I suppose, in retrospect, Raines probably knew all about it. All part of the master plan to break me." Bobby shuddered a little before going on. "She had me brought to her a couple of times a week, for a month or so, and she never did anything to hurt me during that time. I… I should have known better. I know that now… But I started to trust her."

"Which is what she wanted all along," John guessed, and Bobby nodded unhappily.

"Yes," he whispered. "She… She suckered me in good. I was an idiot…"

John, however, objected with a shake of his head.

"No, Bobby. Don't think like that. Don't you be ashamed of it. You were in a god-awful situation, and you had every right and reason to grab at every little bit of kindness that you could."

Bobby rubbed a hand over his eyes. He appreciated the sympathy that John was offering, but at the same time he couldn't help but feel that the other man didn't really comprehend the true depth of what had happened.

"Mr Eames…"

"For God's sake, Bobby, it's just John. Okay?"

Bobby shifted a little in the bed, reddening at the admonishment, but said nothing in direct answer to it. Instead, he continued to speak in a shaky voice, trying to make John understand the awful experience he'd had without saying more than he really had to.

"I… I think I could count on one hand the number of people in that place who were genuinely kind to me. Miss Parker was at the top of that list, along with Angelo, and she warned me more than once not to trust Brigitte, if I ever came into contact with her. In a way, I guess what happened was my own fault. I let me guard down with her, and it gave her the chance she was looking for."

John grasped his left shoulder in a reassuring grip.

"What did she do to you, Bobby? Talk to me, son."

Bobby drew in a shuddering breath.

"Her cleaners came for me one night. They took me to the sim room. Brigitte was there, waiting. When I asked her what was going on, she said she had a simulation that she wanted my help with. She had a theory, and she wanted me to help her test it. She said I had to help her, because of everything she'd done for me. I said okay… and that was when she told me take off my clothes."

John felt himself wince, even though he'd half anticipated what was coming. Bobby went on in a trembling voice, refusing to meet John's gaze.

"I didn't do it. I mean… I thought I'd misheard her. I'd hoped I had. But… she walked up to me and said 'I'll start you off'. And she began to unbutton my shirt. I tried to pull away from her, but her cleaners grabbed me. She… She undressed me completely. It was humiliating… She made comments on everything… A… About e… everything that she… she saw. She knew she was humiliating me… Th… That's why she did it. It excited her, to humiliate me like that." Bobby roughly wiped away fresh tears from his eyes. "The… The last time someone looked at me that closely was when I was f… fourteen… When Mom was caught up in one of her delusions, and was looking for the mark of the devil on me. Brigitte looked at me that closely. She… She looked at me like… like…"

"Like you were her own personal toy?" John suggested softly, and again Bobby nodded tearfully.

"Yes."

John shut his eyes momentarily, swallowing a sigh. No wonder Bobby had panicked in the clinic.

"Okay," he said softly. "Now I understand why you reacted the way that you did."

"Despite everything that Sydney, Lyle and Raines had done to me up to that point," Bobby went on, "I'd never been humiliated by them. Brigitte did that. She humiliated me, and she took away what little dignity I still had. And, it didn't stay in that room, either. The cleaners all talked. Every time I was taken somewhere, they'd be grinning and laughing at me. It… It happened for weeks afterwards. Plus… I don't know for sure, but I think that maybe Lyle was there, watching. It wouldn't have surprised me, at least."

John regarded Bobby thoughtfully. What Bobby had just related to him was bad enough, but John suspected that there was still more to the story.

"She did something else to you, didn't she?"

A strangled moan escaped from Bobby's lips, sending an icy chill down John's spine. A moment later, Bobby lay back down in the bed, and rolled awkwardly over so that his back was to John. For a good couple of minutes, John stared at Bobby in dismay and growing suspicion. That suspicion was only strengthened when he walked around to the other side to find Bobby in tears.

John Eames had never made detective, but he had served a short stint with the Special Victims' Unit early in his career, as a uniformed cop. During his time there, he'd learnt to recognise certain signs in victims of sexual assault. Those were the signs he was seeing now in Bobby, and it frightened him badly.

"Bobby, talk to me," he pleaded softly.

"I can't…" Bobby whispered in between soft, miserable sobs. "I'm sorry… I can't. Please… I just want to go to sleep. Please let me go to sleep."

"All right," John murmured, feeling intensely guilty all of a sudden for causing Bobby so much distress. "Shut your eyes, son. Go to sleep, and let me keep watch. You're safe, Bobby. No one can hurt you again. They'd be fools to even try."

John watched as Bobby literally cried himself to sleep. Once he was certain that the younger man was, indeed, asleep, John moved over to the far side of the room, and pulled out his cell phone and hit speed dial. It was answered quickly at the other end.

"Hi, Lexie, it's Dad… No, honey, he's okay. Well, more or less… No, really, you don't need to come. I just wanted to tell you that it might not be such a bad idea to contact that shrink first thing in the morning. What's his name…? Huang, right. …No, I don't know that it's absolutely urgent… Well, perhaps it is. Just tell him that he might need to have a look through those sim discs. Tell him to look specifically for anything with a woman called Brigitte. …Mm. That's right. According to Bobby, she was as nasty a piece of work as that Lyle. …No, I can't really tell him what he's looking for. Just tell Huang he'll know it when he sees it." There was a long silence, and then John sighed audibly. "All right, Lexie. The truth is that Bobby just told me some of what that Brigitte woman did to him, but he couldn't bring himself to tell me the whole story, and I think I know why." John paused, eyeing Bobby's restless form with a deep sadness. "I think… Lexie, I think she might have raped him."

* * *

_tbc..._


	33. Shaken

A/N: _This chapter did not work out quite the way I'd planned, but I feel satisfied with how it turned out regardless. Thanks again to bammi1 for her help in talking through this ever more complicated fic. I am still staggered at the way it's grown, and is growing._

**WARNING:**_ There are strong themes of sexual assault and rape in this chapter. I'm not amping up the rating, but I figured that I ought to at least include a warning on this chapter. I've stopped short of actually going into descriptions, but an active imagination needs little in the way of descriptions._

_

* * *

_

George Huang ignored everyone in the SVU squad room as he strode through with a box of what looked like unmarked DVDs. His expression was grim as he carried them through into the unoccupied video room, pulled the door closed behind him and began to rummage through the box.

Upon his arrival back at his office the previous morning, he'd been told he was reassigned back to the Special Victims' Unit; a directive that he was more than happy with. Not only did it place him back where he believed he was most effective, but it also provided him with an opportunity to view some of the worst of Bobby's sim discs in an environment where no one would probably look twice.

As comfortable as his office at the Burea headquarters was, there were too many eyes and ears there for his liking.

He heard the door open behind him, and lifted his head from the box to see Olivia Benson and Elliot Stabler there, watching him with pleased surprise.

"Hey, Doc, you're back," Elliot said.

"We thought we'd lost you back to the FBI," Olivia remarked. George smiled faintly at the two of them.

"Only temporarily. Someone pulled a few strings to get me assigned elsewhere. There was… someone who needed some extra help."

_Well, it was technically the truth_, George thought wryly. He turned back to the box, and missed the looks exchanged by Elliot and Olivia.

"Anything we can help you with there, Doc?" Elliot wondered, and George shook his head.

"No thankyou, Elliot. I'm just searching for something."

Before George had the chance to say anything, Elliot walked over and pulled one of the discs out of the box.

"Well, if you tell us what you're looking for, maybe we can help you find it. Right, Liv?"

Olivia wandered over, plucking a disc out of the box for a closer look.

"Right."

"Look, thanks for the offer," George said in a strained voice, "but I can manage without help."

For several seconds, George thought they were going to persist, but then Elliot shrugged and tossed the disc back into the box.

"Sure. No problem. Just yell if you change your mind."

And with that, he strolled casually out of the room. Olivia paused a moment longer, staring at George intently before smiling warmly at him.

"We're glad you're back, Doc."

And then she was gone, too. George breathed a sigh of relief as he turned his attention back to the contents of the box. As sympathetic as he was sure Olivia and Elliot would be, he didn't feel right letting anyone else see the contents of those discs – especially if one of them contained the sort of material that he had been afraid of all along.

Also, as far as he was aware, neither of them knew a thing about the situation with Bobby Goren. As far as he knew, Elliot and Olivia were under the same assumption as the majority of the NYPD – that Bobby Goren had suffered some sort of personal crisis, and had taken an indefinite leave of absence.

George frowned as he dug deeper through the pile. He'd begun to try and sort the discs out before their return to New York, and it had proved a futile exercise. None of them were clearly marked, and some contained data from more than one simulation or experiment – some of which had been conducted over multiple days. The discs defied his attempts to logically catalogue them, and so he'd finally resorted to marking them as best as he could in accordance with what he'd seen on them.

So far, he'd seen no evidence that suggested any form of sexual abuse or assault had taken place, but that had not been to say there was none. Sure, he knew that Bobby had denied all along that he'd been sexually abused by his captors, but George had never truly believed him. What he did believe was that Bobby did not consciously remember being sexually abused. It was a trauma that his mind had fought hard to suppress, and it had done a damned good job. It seemed, though, that the memories were finally starting to claw their way to the surface, and he knew he needed to know what had happened, so that he could help Bobby get through it without it resulting in a major breakdown.

George's breath caught on his throat as he finally found a disc that had a lowly sticky note on it, with just one word, followed by three question marks.

_Brigitte???_

Taking the disc out, George slid it into the DVD player, and began to watch.

* * *

"Liv?"

Olivia Benson glanced around at her partner from where she was still hovering near the viewing room. He was staring at her quizzically, and she motioned for him to come closer. He did so, a bemused look on his face.

"Are you snooping?"

"Yes," she hissed. "Check it out. See what George is watching?"

Elliot looked, and then his eyebrows shot up.

"Hey, that's one of those simulation things," he murmured. "Like what Deakins and that guy showed to Cragen to convince him they were on the level about Bobby. How did the doc get a hold of one?"

"One?" Olivia retorted. "How'd he get a hold of a whole box of them?"

"Well, let's go find out," Elliot said, and promptly walked back in.

* * *

George didn't have a chance to switch off the DVD player when Elliot and Olivia walked back in, and before he had a chance to try and deflect their questions, Elliot spoke with a wry smile.

"This person who needed extra help, Doc. It wouldn't have been Bobby Goren, by any chance?"

George swallowed, and then somehow found his voice.

"You know I can't talk about that, Elliot. It's doctor-patient confidentiality."

"Relax, Doc," Elliot told him. "We're not going to go blabbing to everyone. We were just curious over how you came to have all these sim discs of Bobby Goren from when he was being held in the Centre."

George blinked, stunned.

"You… You know about that? And what these are?"

"We know, because Captain Deakins and that other guy… Jarod… showed one to Captain Cragen, to convince him that they weren't nuts… and to convince him to let us help rescue Bobby."

It was impossible for George to conceal his shock.

"You two were involved?"

"Us, Fin and Munch," Olivia confirmed, and George shook his head incredulously.

"When Carolyn Barek told me the story, she didn't mention that you were involved in the rescue. She didn't give any names at all."

"It was kept pretty tightly under wraps," Elliot said. "The whole idea was that if the bastards from the Centre didn't know who we were, they couldn't scuttle the plan, or use us to try and get Bobby back. So, we never talked about it to anyone, even after it happened. How'd you get involved?"

"Carolyn came to see me," George told them. "Someone had pulled some strings, and my supervisor yanked me from SVU and told me I'd been reassigned, but couldn't tell me what the new assignment was. Then Carolyn showed up, and told me about Bobby. She said he needed help, and they believed I could help him. I agreed, and they took me to where he was. I was there for over a month."

"So, the mysterious new assignment was helping Bobby?" Olivia wondered.

"Right," George confirmed.

"Which means… if you're back…" Elliot said. George nodded, smiling faintly at the hope in both of their faces.

"We all arrived back in New York very early yesterday morning. Bobby as well. He's home."

"Thank God," Olivia whispered. "So, is he home, as in his own home? Or staying with someone else?"

"If you want to go and see him," George told them, "then you'll need to talk to Captain Deakins about it. I don't think he wants multitudes of people descending on Bobby all at once. Not to mention, the security issues involved."

"It's really not over yet, is it?" Elliot wondered. "There must still be a whole lot of crap for him to deal with. I mean, isn't that why you're looking at these discs now?"

George nodded again.

"That's right. Now, if you'll both excuse me…"

He trailed off as he turned back to the television screen, and suddenly found himself confronted with evidence of a truth that Bobby had continually denied.

"Oh, crap," Elliot groaned at the sight that met them.

"This is what you were looking for?" Olivia asked softly, and George sighed as he stopped the disc.

"Yes. He kept denying it, but I felt certain he'd been sexually assaulted. His mannerisms… everything about him practically screams it."

"Pity we can't nail these bastards for it," Elliot muttered harshly. "So, now that you know it happened, what are you going to do with it?"

"I'll have to confront him with it," George said. "I'm not looking forward to it, though. I don't know whether he honestly doesn't remember, or if he's just trying to convince himself that it didn't happen, but he needs to face up to it, and sooner rather than later."

Elliot and Olivia exchanged thoughtful gazes, each one thinking the same thing. Who better to help a victim come to grips with the reality of having been sexually assaulted, than two Special Victims Unit detectives?

"Grab your coat and that disc, George," Elliot told him firmly. "We're going to see Captain Deakins."

* * *

Captain Deakins didn't know whether to be pleased or concerned when George arrived that morning with Elliot and Olivia in tow. He didn't doubt that it had something to do with Bobby, and the appearance of the SVU detectives set him very much on edge. He didn't want any complications that day. His wife and daughters were due to arrive home that afternoon, and more than anything he just wanted to get through the day trouble-free, so that he could go home and spend some quality time with his family.

He sighed heavily as the three visitors made a bee-line for his office. It seemed that his wish was not going to be granted.

"Doctor," he greeted them wearily. "Detectives. What can I do for you?"

Elliot and Olivia stayed silent and hung back by the door, letting George do the talking for the moment.

"Captain Deakins, have you spoken to Alex this morning?"

Deakins felt an inexplicable chill race down his spine.

"No, I haven't. Why? What's happened?"

"Nothing," George assured him. "Bobby's okay. The reason I'm asking is because she called me early this morning, after her father called her. All she could tell me was that I needed to find a disc with someone called Brigitte on it."

"And…?" Deakins asked softly, dreading what might be coming. George let his breath out in a rush. There was no easy way to say what he had to say, except to simply come out and say it.

"Bobby _was_ sexually assaulted, Captain. I found evidence of it on one of the sim discs."

"Hell," Deakins whispered, burying his face in his hands in distress.

"I don't know whether it was a once-off assault, or if it was an abuse that was perpetrated over a period of time," George went on softly, "but I need to talk to Bobby about it."

"Did he ever give any hint to you that it had happened?" Deakins asked, and George answered with a shake of his head.

"No. I suspected it all along, but every time I tried to raise the subject with Bobby, he flatly denied it. Either he's completely in denial over it, or he honestly doesn't remember it. Unfortunately, I can't tell which it is."

A frown passed over Deakins' face. He didn't doubt George's words, but at the same time he found himself searching for even the smallest thing with which to counter the grim claim of sexual abuse.

"Then what triggered the phone call this morning?"

"I don't know," George admitted. "If Alex does know, then she wasn't telling me. All I know was that she was incredibly upset… I'm sure she'd been crying."

The captain's stomach rolled unpleasantly, and he took a deep breath to gather himself together. His gaze flickered across to Elliot and Olivia who, until this point, had not said a word between them.

"And you two are here because…?"

Olivia came forward, and spoke in a low, calm voice.

"Elliot and I thought that if Bobby couldn't bring himself to talk to Dr Huang, then maybe he might talk to us. We deal with this a lot… Maybe we can get him to open up."

Deakins couldn't resist the grim smile that tugged on the corners of his mouth.

"I appreciate your concern, Detectives, but it's not quite as simple and straight-forward as you might think. Bobby's state of mind at the moment is…"

"Fragile?" Elliot suggested when Deakins hesitated. "Let me take a wild stab, Captain. He's subdued, and won't communicate easily with anyone. He has nightmares, but he either won't talk about them, or he claims he can't remember them."

Elliot was interrupted by a short laugh, from the captain.

"Very intuitive, Detective. That description is very accurate, but if you had half a clue as to what Bobby went through in those nine months, then you'd know that those symptoms relate to more than just sexual assault where Bobby is concerned."

"We're aware of that, Captain," Olivia said quietly. "We both saw what was on that sim disc that you showed Captain Cragen before Bobby was rescued."

Deakins sighed heavily.

"Yes, you did, didn't you?" He looked over at George. "I don't want all three of you turning up on John Eames' doorstep, George. Bobby will smell the ambush coming a mile off."

"What do you suggest we do?" George asked. Deakins was silent for a long moment before responding.

"Do you have the disc with you now? The one with the… with the evidence on it?"

"Right here," George confirmed. Deakins held out a hand for it.

"Give it to me. Let me go and talk to him first. Please, George, trust me?"

George was silent for a long moment, looking reluctant. Finally, though, he handed the disc over to Deakins in acquiescence.

"It's not good," George told him softly, and Deakins sighed softly.

"That, Doctor, would have to be the biggest understatement I've heard yet."

* * *

When Alex arrived at the hospital to collect Bobby and John, she fully expected to be confronted with yet another heart-breaking scene. She expected to find Bobby in a bad state, as had often happened after a particularly bad memory had risen to the surface. It was more than a surprise to her when she approached Bobby's room to hear the sound of laughter from within.

She paused just outside the door, listening cautiously in case Bobby had already been discharged, and someone else placed in the room. But no, as she listened, she was able to make out the sounds of both her father's and her partner's booming, distinctive laughs. Confused, but hopeful, Alex ventured into the room.

The sight that met her sent waves of pleasurable surprise through her. Rather than lying in the bed, Bobby was dressed and sitting in one of the visitor's chairs. John occupied the other, and both men were grinning widely.

"Alex, c'mon in," John told her. "You're just in time. I was just about to tell Bobby about the time you talked Philip into helping you to paint your bedroom."

Alex looked baffled for a moment, and then mortified.

"Dad, you wouldn't…"

John looked back to Bobby, still grinning.

"Lexie here decided she didn't like the colour of her bedroom walls when she was nine, and she bribed Philip to help her paint them."

"Bribed?" Bobby wondered, and John chuckled at the memory.

"Uh huh. She promised him five dollars and a pack of NBA trading cards."

Bobby snorted with laughter, despite the glower on Alex's face.

"It was a fair trade," she argued. All he did was hold the paint tin."

"Let me guess," Bobby said, his voice strained from the effort not to laugh. "She forgot that you need to move the furniture away from the walls, and cover it before you paint?"

"Bingo," John confirmed. "Paint _everywhere_. Including all over her. I got home form patrol that night, and Helen had Lexie in the shower, clothes and all, trying to scrub her clean. I tell you, Bobby, I had to go and shut myself in the garage, so the kids wouldn't hear me laughing."

"I think all kids have done something like that some time or other," Bobby said in between hiccupping bursts of laughter.

"Oh, but you haven't heard the punchline," John said.

"Dad, don't you dare!" Alex burst out. Bobby raised an eyebrow as he realised there was one detail that John had neglected to tell him.

"What colour?"

"Dad, no…" Alex moaned, but John was not in the mood to show mercy.

"Fluorescent pink. And yes, she had to go to school with pink hair for a month, because that's how long it took to get that paint out of her hair. Kids at school were calling her Cotton Candy for a the rest of the year. It was industry strength paint, and was far more effective than any hair colouring."

Bobby couldn't help it. He burst into roaring laughter at the image presented in his mind of a nine year old Alex with bright pink hair. Alex, for her part, scowled at her father in mock irritation.

"Thanks, Dad. You've just stripped me of what little dignity I still had."

"You'll survive," John told her, patting her hand reassuringly. Bobby looked up at her, his eyes watering from laughter, and Alex felt her heart melt. A little bit of embarrassment on her part was nothing if it gave Bobby something to smile at and, for a moment at least, she got to see past the hurt, the fear and the grief to the man that she'd once known.

"Ready to ditch this place?" she asked, meeting his smile with her own, and holding one hand out to him. Gratitude shining in his eyes, Bobby accepted the outstretched hand, and allowed Alex to lead him from the room.

* * *

"I'm sorry," Bobby murmured as he waited with Alex while John spoke to Dr Bauer about medications, and future check-ups. She regarded him in puzzlement.

"For what?"

He was able to hold her gaze for a brief moment before looking away.

"I… We embarrassed you."

Alex laughed softly, and slipped her arms around Bobby in an affectionate hug.

"Don't you worry about that. A little bit of embarrassment never killed anyone, and it put a smile on your face. It was worth it for that, if nothing else."

She knew that she'd said the wrong thing even before she felt him stiffen, and even though she didn't really understand what it was that she'd said. He started to pull back, but she made a split second decision, and decided that she wasn't going to give him the opportunity to withdraw from her.

Alex tightened her arms around him, and refused to let go. Rather than apologise, when she really didn't know what she would be apologising for, she opted for a different tact altogether. Pulling him in as close as he would allow her to, and acutely aware of the way he was trembling in her arms, she murmured softly into his ear in a low, soothing tone.

"I know I just said something wrong, but I don't know what it was I said that was wrong. I need you to talk to me, Bobby. Don't pull away from me, please."

Another violent shudder passed through him but, to her relief and gratitude, he actually answered. His words were whispered, and his tone was shaky, but he did answer her.

"Her… Her name's Brigitte. I think she worked specifically for Lyle. In fact… I'm sure she did. He… He must have been the one to set her on to me. She worked on me for some time… Maybe weeks… I don't know for sure. She gained my trust through being nice to me… at a point when no one else was. She got me to trust her, and then she used that to take me apart." Bobby's breath caught in his throat. "I… I lied, Alex."

She found herself stroking his hair in what she hoped was a reassuring and soothing gesture. It seemed to be working, for his trembling gradually began to ease.

"What did you lie about, Bobby?" she asked softly.

He met her question with silence. She waited, and was just about ready to try asking again when he spoke in a broken whisper.

"She raped me."

An icy shiver swept down through Alex's body. When she spoke, it took a great deal of effort to keep her voice steady and calm.

"This Brigitte woman, you mean?"

"Y… Yes. She raped me… and I think Lyle might have been watching."

White hot anger radiated out from Alex's core, enraged afresh by the Centre's cruel treatment of him, and by its callous disregard for his humanity.

He didn't weep, although she thought she caught a gimpse of tears in his eyes. In fact, she thought, he was strangely composed; it was almost as though he'd already accepted the truth, despite all his previous vehement denials of it.

"That's what you remembered last night?" she asked. When he didn't answer her, she knew then that it was one horror that he had never forgotten. As much as he had denied it, the truth was that he had never forgotten that it had happened.

"It… It's the reason I fought back."

Her mind was a blank, and she realised that she didn't know what he was talking about.

"Fought back when?" she asked, feeling like a right fool.

"When Lyle tried to take me… in the village. It feels like an age ago now, but it was only a few days ago, wasn't it?"

She said nothing, waiting patiently for him to elaborate. After a moment, he did.

"I let Lyle take me then. I let him put me in his car, because I was afraid… I was afraid of what he might do to other people if I didn't. But when we were in the car, he started taunting me. He… He said first that Raines would be happy to see me."

Alex winced in sympathy. She could easily understand the fear that a remark like that would have raised in Bobby. He went on sofly, his attention focused very intently on their joined hands.

"Then he said that Brigitte would be happy to see me. I guess he saw that that got a reaction, because he added that she'd be _really_ happy to see me. He was grinning at me. And… that was when I knew. I… I knew that he must have seen what she did to me. Even if he didn't see it happen, he would have see it on a sim disc. But that was the whole point. It… It was meant to humiliate me, and the best way to do that would have been to tell Lyle… to let him watch."

Alex stared down at their joined hands, and then up at his pale face. His eyes flickered up to meet hers all too briefly, and then dropped away again just as quickly. It occurred to her that he was not offering any details at all of what Brigitte had done to him, but she didn't push for that sort of information from him. He would give that when he was ready, and not before. She didn't take for granted how important it was that he was telling her this much, and it touched her deeply that he had trusted her with such a devastating truth.

Instinctively, she knew that for all his coaxing, her father had not gotten this much out of him during the night.

"Do you want to talk to George?" she asked, feeling guilty at knowing that she had already made that call. If he said yes, she would confess to having already summoned him. If he refused, she would contact George on the quiet, and tell him that Bobby needed a little more time.

"I… I know I need to," Bobby admitted finally, miserably. "But I spent so long denying that it happened. And now, I have to admit that I lied to him. Everything that he's done for me…"

"You feel bad about that," Alex guessed, and Bobby nodded unhappily. Alex sighed, and hugged him fiercely. "He'll understand, Bobby. You know that. No one's going to be angry at you just because you weren't ready to face it before now."

"I know," he mumbled. "I know that… But it's not so easy to accept."

She hesitated, and then stretched up to brush her lips lightly over his cheek. To her great relief, he didn't stiffen, or pull away. Instead, the faintest of sighs escaped him, and he actually leaned in towards the tender contact.

"Just like most things at the moment, right?" she murmured.

"Yeah," he whispered.

"You'll get through this, Bobby," she assured him. "I really do believe that. It's going to be okay. Maybe not right away, but eventually everything will be okay again. You'll see."

He didn't speak to respond to her assurances, but instead slipped his arms around her slim body and hugged her back. He placed a tentative kiss on her temple before sighing again and cuddling in against her.

They were still sitting wrapped up in each other's arms when John Eames and Liz Bauer emerged from Liz's office a little ways down the corridor.

"Look at them," Bauer mused with a smile. "I was wondering how long it would be before they really found each other."

John frowned a little.

"That could get complicated," John murmured. "They are partners…"

Bauer snorted dersiviely, drawing a surprised look from John.

"Those frat rules are a load of crap. Are you seeing them? I mean, really seeing them? From the moment you arrived here with him yesterday morning, he panicked the moment that anyone tried getting too close. Even us. But he cuddles up to Alex like she's the one person in the world that he completely trusts."

"And she probably is," John conceded. "You have to understand, Dr Bauer, that there's a lot more to what happened than most of us know. What Bobby remembered yesterday about being operated on without anaesthetic? That's only the tip of a very big iceberg."

"I gathered as much," she said. "But don't go discounting the strength of their love for each other, either."

"I'm not, believe me. I know damn well that they've been in love with each other since well before Bobby was taken by those people. But I don't think either of them really knew it back then. They certainly hadn't accepted it."

Liz smiled as she observed Bobby and Alex together.

"Well, I think they have now, and all I can say is thank God. Because if you're right, and he was sexually assaulted, then he's going to need all the love and kindness that he can get, with no strings attached."

* * *

The trip home was a quiet one. Bobby and Alex sat together in the back seat, leaving John to handle the driving. He glanced at them occasionally in the mirror, and couldn't help but smile at the way his diminutive daughter cradled her big bear of a partner in her arms. Nor could he miss the way that Bobby so willingly submitted himself to her loving embrace.

He had to admit it, they fitted together beautifully – complete opposites, and yet perfectly matched. All he could hope was that this new-found relationship would not cause them difficulties down the track.

* * *

They arrived home and were just going in when another car pulled into the drive. Bobby stiffened noticeably, and Alex queezed his hand reassuringly.

"It's okay, Bobby. It's just Captain Deakins. See…?"

Slowly, she felt him relax as their captain got out. He tensed again a moment later, though, when a second door opened, and George Huang got out. He looked from Alex to John, a touch of suspicion in his brown eyes.

"Please, don't be mad," Alex begged him. "I called George this morning after Dad told me you'd had a difficult time through the night."

For several long seconds, Alex genuinely thought he was going to explode with anger, but at no point did she release her grip on his arm. Then, to her surprise and relief, his shoulders slumped and all the antagonism bled out of him.

"Okay," he mumbled and without another word he turned and walked back into the house, leaving John and Alex standing on the porch.

* * *

They found him sitting in the family room, on edge the sofa and staring miserably at the floor. Alex went to his side and slipped her arms around him once more. Though he didn't object and pull away from her, it was telling that nor did he return the affectionate gesture. He continued to sit there, not responding either physically or verbally. She didn't take offense, though. It was easy enough to understand his reaction. He'd found it within himself to talk to her about what that woman Brigitte had done, but it was fairly obvious that the appearance of George Huang and the captain meant that he was going to have to relive it, whether he wanted to or not.

Humiliation, Alex reflected, and felt a fresh wave of misery for Bobby. That had been the point of it, and that son of a bitch Lyle was succeeding even now, when Bobby was out of their clutches.

"You know why we're here, don't you, Bobby?" Deakins asked softly. Bobby regarded him bitterly, but said nothing.

"Perhaps Bobby and I should go somewhere private where we can talk," George suggested. _That_ got a reaction.

"No," he said abruptly, in a rough, guttural tone. George regarded him thoughtfully.

"No?"

Bobby drew in a long, shaky breath. It was painfully clear that he was finding it hard to maintain control of his emotions.

"You all know now. What's the point of hiding?"

"What is it that you think we all know?" George asked cryptically, drawing an incredulous look from Bobby.

"That's stupid question number two, Doc. Care to go for the trifecta?"

George smiled calmly, unperturbed by the harshness of Bobby's tone.

"Like I said, Bobby, I promise you that I'll never ask a stupid question without a reason."

Bobby looked away wearily. Silence reigned for the next few minutes as he considered what to say. The silence was just starting to become distinctly uncomfortable when he finally gave in and responded.

"There was a woman in the Centre… called Brigitte. I think Lyle set her onto me. She… She manipulated me into trusting her. When she succeeded at that, she…"

He faltered, his voice catching as he struggled to find the words. No one spoke, not even to offer a word of encouragement to him, for fear that he would lose his nerve and go silent on them. He continued on after taking a moment to gather his nerves.

"She had the… the guards hold me down. She… She took my clothes off a… and she raped me. I couldn't stop her. I wanted to… I tried to… but they held me down, and I couldn't move at all." The words came out in a rush, and he spoke with his gaze fixed on the carpet at his feet. He glanced up once, briefly, and that was all. "It was meant to humiliate me… to force me into submission… and it worked. Nothing anyone had done to me up to that point humiliated me like Brigitte was able to do."

He fell into a miserable silence, refusing to look at any of them, even Alex.

"And Lyle knew about this?" Deakins wondered.

"I know he did," Bobby mumbled. "I think he might have even watched."

"And Sydney?" George queried. "Did he know?"

It took Bobby nearly a minute to respond to that question.

"I don't know. I told myself that he didn't. But… I don't know."

"Okay, Bobby," George went on gently. "You have a decision to make now."

Slowly, Bobby looked back up at the psychiatrist.

"What decision? I admitted it, didn't I? What else do you want from me?"

George held his hand out to Deakins.

"Captain Deakins, may I…?"

Deakins handed the sim disc over to George without a word of protest. Bobby's breath caught in his throat, and he stared at the disc in shock.

"Is… Is that what I think it is?"

"You remember when we first talked about the sim discs, Bobby?" George said. "I asked you what you wanted done with them."

Bobby nodded, his eyes still locked onto the disc in George's hand. George went on quietly, acutely aware that Bobby seemed to be right on the edge of another panic attack.

"I asked you if you wanted the discs to be destroyed. Do you remember what you told me?"

For nearly a minute, Bobby didn't respond. He continued staring at the disc, and they were just starting to wonder whether George's words had even registered in his mind. It was only when Bobby finally lifted his gaze to meet the psychiatrist's that they knew he had heard.

"I… I said they needed to be kept safe."

"And why did you decide that?"

"Because… they're evidence of what happened to me… and there are answers to… and reasons for my nightmares recorded on them. I… I can't let myself forget again, but the mind's natural defence is to repress… So I need to keep the discs, so I never forget."

George nodded approvingly.

"That's a good, reasoned argument. Now, you need to apply it to this."

He waved the disc briefly in the air, and Bobby visibly winced.

"What do you want me to do?" he asked in a strangle tone.

"I can't dictate to you on this, Bobby. It's entirely your decision."

"You're asking me whether I want to keep it, or destroy it?"

George regarded Bobby passively.

"Essentially, yes."

Bobby laughed, then, but it was a thoroughly unpleasant sound.

"You actually need to ask?"

"Not really," George conceded. "But before I snap this, you need to ask yourself if you've honestly faced up to this, or whether there is a part of you that is still denying that it happened. And if, by destroying the disc, are you just aiding that part of yourself in covering it all up again… just like the first time."

Bobby winced again, and his entire body tensed at George's choice of words. Alex and John were both looking at George in shock and confusion, but Deakins had a grim look on understanding on his features.

"What are you talking about?" Bobby asked hoarsely. There was a long moment of awkward silence, and then Deakins spoke up in as gentle a tone as he could.

"Bobby, do you remember back to the morning of the day that they took you? When we were all at my home?"

"No," Bobby mumbled quickly; a little too quickly to be truly convincing.

"I think you do," Deakins said. "And I think you remember the discussion about how Catherine Parker was able to smuggle you out of the Centre when you were a boy. You were sent to the hospital wing after you were badly injured during a simulation that was set up by Raines. I commented that I hadn't seen any evidence of injuries on you when Cathering Parker brought you to me, and you said…"

"It wasn't anything that could be seen on my upper body," Bobby whispered. His face had turned the colour of ash as he spoke, and his breath caught painfully in his throat. His eyes glazed over and his body slumped limply against Alex as the horrific memories took over his conscious mind.

* * *

_When Raines led Bobby into the sim room to discover the boy called Kyle waiting there, it took every ounce of mental strength that he had not to simply turn and run. Despite the fact that he had almost one foot and twenty to thirty pounds on the other boy, Bobby wa still terrified of him. _

"_Sit down there, Bobby," Raines ordered him, and Bobby sat in wordless terror on the only chair in the room. Raines then drew Kyle away to the far side of the room, and spoke to him in a low murmur. Bobby thought he caught a few words like 'uncooperative' and 'persuasion', but couldn't be sure. What he was sure of was that the nasty grin that Kyle kept flashing in his direction only served to compound his fear._

_Finally, Raines headed over to the door, pausing once to look back at Kyle._

"_Make me proud."_

_Then the door slammed shut, and they were alone._

_Bobby watched as Kyle came back to stand in front of him, observing him with a critical stare._

"_Hey, Bobby. Dr Raines said you won't cooperate with him. He wants me to convince you to start."_

_Bobby opened his mouth to speak, but anything he'd intended to say was gone from the moment that Kyle's fist connected with his face._

_For someone so small and slim, Kyle packed one hell of a punch. Later on, despite everything else that went on, that was what Bobby most clearly remembered. The force of the blow was such that it sent Bobby crashing to the floor. He was still recovering from the shock of the blow when Kyle was suddenly on him._

_By the time Bobby had regained his senses, Kyle had found his wrists tightly behind his back, and shoved a gag into his mouth to quiet his frightened cries. Leaning in close, Kyle whispered hoarsely into Bobby's ear._

"_I decide who lives or dies, Bobby. **I** decide who lives or dies."_

_Bobby barely had time to register those words before his sweatpants were yanked roughly down to his ankles, leaving him exposed and vulnerable. And then, he felt Kyle's hand on his back, waist, and then on his buttocks. _

"_You get to live today, Bobby, but I'm going to teach you a lesson you'll never forget, and you'll never want to defy Dr Raines again. Ever."_

_

* * *

_

Bobby came out of the memory with a violent start and he doubled over, clutching his stomach and groaning. He heard voices calling to him, trying to get his attention, but the words made no sense to him. His mind was awash with images that he had repressed for a long, long time, and it was suddenly more than he could cope with. He became aware of hands on him, and he suddenly found it impossible to distinguish between the gentle touch of concerned friends, as opposed to the cruel, tormenting touch of the boy that Raines had used to try and bring him into line.

The bile rose in his throat and he fought wilfully against the desire to throw up. Feeling sick to his stomach and overwhelmed with horror, Bobby launched himself from the sofa, breaking free from the people who surrounded him, and fled from the room.

* * *

_tbc..._


	34. A Long Awaited Visit

He hadn't gone very far, much to Alex's relief. Not that she'd expected him to flee outside, but nor did she care to be searching for him all over the house. Her first guess was right, though. He'd gone to ground in his room, and she found him lying on the bed, huddled up in as tight a ball as he could manage.

She stood in the doorway, observing him in silence for nearly a minute before finally walking over and sitting beside him.

"Bobby."

He didn't move, and gave no indication that he'd heard her. She lay a hand lightly on his arm, and he stiffened under her touch. A faint whimper escaped his lips, and he started to pull away from her. Alex didn't hesitate, leaning down and speaking to him in a low murmur.

"Knock it off, Bobby."

Bobby froze, caught off-guard by the unexpected rebuke. Alex went on quietly and quickly, keeping her voice gentle so as to reassure him that she was on his side.

"You know it's me, and you know I'd never hurt you, so don't you pull away from me." She smiled softly with relief as she felt the muscles in his arm relaxing just slightly under her touch. "Now, I also know you can hear me just fine, so you listen to me. I'm not letting you pull back from me this time. Do you hear me, Bobby? I'm not going to let you. Talk to me, Bobby. Don't turn away."

He lay still for a while, but she was patient. Finally, her patience was rewarded when Bobby spoke in a strained whisper.

"It's too much… Alex, I can't deal with it."

"No, you can't," Alex conceded. "Not alone. But you're _not_ alone, Bobby. You have my mom and dad… Captain Deakins… Mike and Carolyn… George… And you have me. Now, will you turn over and look at me?"

He did so, more out of an instinctive urge to respond to her request than his own desire. The look on his face was heart-breaking, and Alex knew he had finally hit rock-bottom. Fighting back her own tears, she lay down beside him and slipped her arms around him.

"Talk to me," she whispered, reaching up to gently stroke his cheek. "Don't shut me out, Bobby."

He said nothing to start with, and she did nothing to try and rush him. They had as much time as he needed – she'd ensured that before following him upstairs. As she watched, tears filled his eyes and overflowed, dampening the pillow beneath their heads. When he did eventually begin to talk, it was in so soft a voice that she had to strain to hear him.

"It… It was Raines. He set Kyle onto me when I was a boy. I wouldn't do anything he asked, so he let Kyle a… assault me… He wanted to guarantee I was too terrified to disobey him. When… When I was taken out of that room, I couldn't even walk on my own. I had to be carried by one of the guards. I'd been sick… and I was bleeding… badly… from behind. But Raines didn't w… want me to go to the hospital wing. He… He'd had me taken down to… to SL27 by then. He didn't want anyone stopping him. But the guard that was supposed to take me back... He was a good man. I remember that much. I think he was loyal to Mrs Parker. He… He took me up to the hospital wing instead, and he told Sydney and Mrs Parker what Raines had done to me."

Bobby's breath caught in his throat as a new memory came to him. "I remember Mrs Parker coming to see me in the hospital wing. She was trying so hard not to cry when she saw me… I… I remember she sat on the edge of the bed, and held my hand, and told me that everything was going to be okay… She asked me to trust her, and she said I wouldn't be in the Centre for much longer. She… She sat with me all that night. She didn't care that Raines was angry. I… I don't think he frightened her so much as the establishment as a whole. A few days after that, she came to me again… And that was when she got me out. She… She saved my life, Alex."

"I know," Alex murmured, hugging him to her and struggling to hold back her own tears. "I know she did."

"Raines must have told Lyle about what he did to me with Kyle," Bobby went on shakily. "Because I… I know it was never recorded. Even the Director at the time… Mr Parker… Even he wouldn't have let Raines get away with that. But he must have told Lyle, and Lyle decided to do the same thing… to try and frighten me into cooperating." He shuddered in her arms. "It worked. After Brigitte did that to me, I stopped fighting Raines. I figured that anything he wanted me to do couldn't be as bad as that… so I started cooperating. And… and whenever I tried to stop, Lyle would remind me of it… or Brigitte would show up… and I'd cooperate again. I hated myself for it so much, but I couldn't handle being raped again. I just couldn't…"

Alex hugged him fiercely, and kissed him tenderly on the top of his head.

"I know, baby. I understand, and so does everyone else. Everyone has their breaking point, Bobby. Even you, and you endured a hell of a lot more than most people are capable of coping with. Just the fact that they had to resort to those tactics to make you cooperate says you really gave them some hell, and I am so proud of you for fighting that hard."

"I… I called Nicole damaged goods," Bobby whispered. "But… that's what I am. Damaged…"

"But not irreparable," Alex told him. "Let me help you, Bobby, please."

He looked at her searchingly, and she responded by leaning in close and pressing her lips gently to his. Though he didn't actively respond, when she withdrew a little she smiled to see that his eyes had fluttered closed. When he opened them again, he blushed red at the realisation that she was watching him so intently. But, she realised triumphantly, he didn't try to pull away from her, either.

"I don't know how," he admitted softly. "I… I want to let you, but I don't know how."

She kissed him again, and this time he did respond, sending a not so small thrill through her. Smiling with relief and a tempered sense of joy, Alex drew his head to her shoulder, and cradled him to her.

"You already are, Bobby."

* * *

They were all still there, waiting, when Alex finally came back downstairs, a satisfied smile on her face.

"I assume you got through to him," George said as she walked in and sat down. She nodded in confirmation.

"I think I did."

"How is he?" Deakins wondered, not even attempting to mask the worry in his voice.

"Better than you might expect," Alex replied. "Even though his memories of being assaulted are pretty horrific, they also triggered his memory of the woman who rescued him."

"Catherine Parker," Deakins murmured, and Alex nodded again.

"Yes, her. He told me that after he was assaulted... and by the way, Raines had another kid do it to him."

"Son of a bitch," John muttered, and a murmur of agreement swept across the group. Alex continued speaking quietly.

"He said the guard was supposed to take him back to his room in SL27, but he took him up to the hospital wing instead, and told Mrs Parker what had happened. So, I guess that guard saved Bobby's life just as much as Mrs Parker did."

"Jarod did try to tell us that not everyone in that place was evil," Deakins mused.

"Bobby told me a couple of times about instances when Miss Parker stepped in to help him," George told them. "He mentioned a guard that seemed to be loyal to Miss Parker, who treated him kindly."

"They couldn't be the same person," Alex said with a frown. "There was a thirty year gap, remember."

"Maybe not the same man," George agreed. "But a father and son, perhaps? From what Jarod told me, the place seemed to be very much a family affair."

Deakins nodded in agreement.

"I can see the son of a man who was loyal to Catherine Parker showing that same loyalty to her daughter. You may be right about that, George. But whether it's true or not, I'm just grateful that there was at least one or two people who were actively trying to protect him."

"I'm just glad that he has a few positive memories," Helen said. "It might not be much in the overall picture, but it's still something."

"He's still hurting so much," Alex said sadly, "but... I don't know. It just seemed that something turned in him today. He really opened up to me before. He told me things willingly, and it wasn't just like he was blurting it in the middle of a memory, or because he felt it was what he was supposed to... or what he thought we expected him to do. He was actually talking about what happened because he _wanted_ to. It... It was like he suddenly accepted that he can only conquer his fears by facing them, and that he needs to be able to accept our help to do that."

"These memories," George said thoughtfully. "For Bobby personally, they are the worste that he's got. If he can confront them and come out on top, then he really will be on the road to recovery, finally."

Getting up, Deakins wondered over to the window and looked out. Across the road and a couple of houses away, sat a car with two people inside. Deakins recognised the car, and knew that the occupants were members of his own squad. David Ash had wasted no time in organising a guard roster for the Eames home.

"We just have to hope that the Centre will decide to cut its losses and leave Bobby alone."

"Well, there's been no sign of Centre activity here, and it's been a few days now," George remarked. "That's something."

John hesitated, and then spoke awkwardly.

"Ah... That might not be entirely accurate."

All eyes turned to look at him, and he shifted uncomfortably under the scrutiny.

"Dad?" Alex asked tensely. "Are you saying you've seen people from the Centre?"

"No, not me. It was Bobby. Look, his memory of being assaulted by that Brigitte woman... They weren't triggered by a nightmare. I left Bobby in the room to get something for him to eat, and when I came back he was standing at the window. We talked for a few minutes, but when he started to come back to the bed, he froze up. He thought he saw someone outside, on the street, and it gave him one hell of a scare."

"_Thought_ he saw someone?" George queried, and John had the grace to look mildly embarrassed.

"Truth is, Doc, I looked but I never saw anyone. And it might have been dark, but the street lights were all on and there was no cover down there on the street. There was nowhere anyone could have gone quickly enough that I wouldn't have seen them. And to be honest, even Bobby seemed like he didn't really believe that he'd seen anything... or anyone."

"You think he was just seeing things, John?" Deakins asked.

"I really don't know. Part of me hopes that wasn't the case," John answered. "For the sake of his mental stability, I hope it wasn't. But at the same time, it scares me to think that maybe those bastards are already here in New York, and on his tail."

A grim silence met that statement and, of course, John was right. Either Bobby was starting to see things, and possibly starting to lose his grip on reality, or the Centre was already gathering its forces to strike out and take their pretender back.

Either possibility was bleak, and left them cloaked in a heavy silence.

"If Bobby said he saw someone," Alex said finally, fiercely, "then I believe him. We should be prepared for the Centre to try and grab him again."

"We will be prepared for that," Deakins assured her. "But we can't discount the possibility that it might just be Bobby's mind playing tricks on him. Let's face it, Alex. He's been pushed the very limits of what any person would be capable of enduring. It's not unreasonable to think that..."

"That what?" Alex snapped. "That he's finally going crazy, like his mom? Is that what you were going to say?"

Deakins sighed heavily in defeat, and George spoke up quickly.

"Not crazy, Alex. Not by a long stretch of the imagination. But he's in a horrible position. You ought to know that the mind is capable of producing very realistic hallucinations when it's placed under enough stress. I think we're going to find that that is what's happened here."

Alex frowned, still not liking or accepting the suggestion that Bobby was not mentally stable.

"So, what do we do?" she asked softly, struggling to keep her temper in check.

"I think," George said quietly, "that we need to maintain a careful watch from now on – both for any sign of Centre activity, and for signs from Bobby of deteriorating mental health. We have to accept that either one is a very real possibility."

"Well, I think it sucks," Alex growled.

"We have to cover all the bases, Alex, "Deakins told her firmly. "You know we do, and it's for Bobby's own sake. I will not take any chances this time. I won't risk losing him again, not in any way."

"I said I don't like it," Alex grumbled. "I didn't say I wouldn't go along with it. Just... For God's sake, we have to be careful what we say around him. He's sensitive enough as it is at the moment."

"Fair enough," George conceded. "And right now, is he...?"

"Sleeping," Alex answered soberly.

"John," Helen spoke up again. "Just who was it that Bobby thought he'd seen on the street?"

John looked grim as he replied in a soft voice, his gaze flickering up to the ceiling, and the general vicinity of Bobby's room.

"He thought he saw Brigitte."

* * *

Bobby awoke the next morning feeling remarkably calm, and it took him just a moment to realise a surprising fact. It seemed he'd managed to sleep through the night without being disturbed by nightmares. He lay still and quiet in bed, staring up at the ceiling and reflecting on why that might be, given the distress he'd experienced the previous day with the memories that had forced their way to the surface of his mind. It didn't take much effort for him to remember.

He remembered waking up at some point to find Alex curled up in the bed beside him, her arms wrapped around him. He'd watched her, still half-asleep and musing that her physical presence left him feeling calm and peaceful. More to the point, he felt safe.

He'd fallen asleep again with ease, comfortable and secure in her embrace.

Now, Bobby lay awake, marvelling in how a night spent wrapped up in the safety and love offered by Alex left him feeling like he could face the day, and anything that day might bring.

He rose and washed as best as he was able – his immobilised right arm prevented him from showering properly on his own, but that was one thing he was not going to ask John or Helen for help with. Then, dressing as quickly as his healing body would allow him to, Bobby hurried downstairs.

* * *

Helen Eames looked up as Bobby came into the kitchen, and favoured him with a warm smile.

"Good morning, sweetheart. How did you sleep?"

"I slept well," Bobby answered honestly. "I... I didn't have any nightmares."

John regarded him curiously.

"None at all? That's good to hear. Now, come and sit down. Pancakes suit you for breakfast?"

Bobby nodded, pleased to realise that he did actually have an appetite.

"Yes. Thankyou."

"If you don't mind me saying so," John commented quietly, "you seem a lot happier this morning than the last couple of mornings."

"I feel better," Bobby admitted. "I don't really know why..."

John couldn't hide his grin.

"It wouldn't happen to have anything to do with the fact that you spent the night cuddled up to my daughter, would it?"

Bobby promptly went red, and the white, and began to stammer an apology, but John just laughed and clapped him on the shoulder.

"Relax, Bobby. It doesn't bother me in the slightest. I may have had a different attitude twelve months ago, mind you, but any fool can see that you and Alex are the best medicine each of you has right now. And if it blooms into something more permanent, then all the better. I won't stand in the way and, for the record, neither will Jimmy Deakins."

Bobby stared intently at the tabletop, still blushing violently red.

"All right, John," Helen said firmly, deciding it was time to step in. "You've embarrassed him enough. Why don't you go out to the garage and tinker around for a while? Let Bobby eat his breakfast in peace. Then, later on, we can sit down and decide what we're going to do today."

Bobby's head came up, then, and he looked quickly from Helen to John.

"You don't have to do that. I... I don't need to do anything. You... You've already done more than enough, really..."

"Nonsense," Helen retorted. "You've been back in New York for less than three days, and so far your only outing has been to the hospital. There must be somewhere that you'd like to go, or something you'd like to do."

At that, Bobby faltered. Yes, there was somewhere that he wanted to go, but he felt intensely guilty for even considering asking John and Helen to take him.

"What are you thinking, Bobby?" John asked softly. "Be honest, son."

Still Bobby didn't speak, but the look he exchanged with John spoke in volumes. John nodded slowly, understanding with absolute clarity what Bobby could not bring himself to ask.

"Finish cooking those pancakes for Bobby, Helen. I'm going to call Jimmy and let him know that we'll be taking Bobby to Carmel Ridge in an hour or so, to see his mother."

* * *

Deakins sat back slowly after hanging up the phone, chewing lightly on his lower lip as he digested what he'd just been told. He wasn't particularly surprised – he had expected Bobby to want to see his mother almost as soon as they arrived back in New York. Just quietly, he was surprised it had taken this long for Bobby to ask... But then, as he mused on it, he guessed that Bobby probably hadn't actually asked. More than likely, John had guessed with little help from Bobby.

His problem now was that he had sent Alex out to a crime scene half an hour ago with Mike and Carolyn. It hadn't really been necessary to send all three, but he decided it was a far better option than having Alex hanging around the bullpen, with nothing to do. Regardless, they weren't here, which meant that Deakins had to arrange for someone else to go with Bobby, John and Helen to Carmel Ridge.

Rising up, Deakins walked over to the door of his office, and looked out to see who was there.

"Jackson!"

Jackson immediately left what he was doing and hurried over.

"Yes, sir?"

"What have you got on your plate at the moment?"

"Right now? Just paperwork, Captain. Why?"

"Okay," Deakins said decisively. "Grab your keys, and come with me."

"Where are we going?" Jackson wondered as he grabbed both keys and jacket, and hurried after Deakins.

"We're going to act as escort for Alex's parents. They're going to drive Bobby to Carmel Ridge, so that he can visit his mother."

* * *

The trip to Carmel Ridge Centre was uneventful, and almost deathly quiet. All attempts on John and Helen's part to hold a conversation fell flat, as Bobby spent the entire time staring out the window at the passing scenery.

Upon arrival at the Centre, John and Helen made to go in with him, but a look from Bobby brought them both up short.

"Please," he said softly. "I need to go in by myself. I... I appreciate you both being here. I really do... But I need to go in to see her alone."

John reached up to rest a hand gently on Bobby's uninjured shoulder.

"We understand that, Bobby, but _you_ need to understand that someone needs to be with you, for your own safety."

Bobby flinched visibly at his words, but before he could say anything, Jimmy Deakins appeared at his side.

"I'll go in with him, John."

Bobby looked around at Deakins, startled.

"C... Captain? You... followed us?"

"Yes, Jackson and I tailed you all the way here."

Bobby's gaze went past the captain to a sedan parked close by, and the man sitting inside, in the driver's seat. They locked eyes momentarily, and Jackson raised a hand briefly in silent greeting to Bobby. When he looked back at Deakins, the captain offered him a reassuring smile.

"I said we weren't taking any chances, Bobby. Not this time. I'm afraid you're just going to have to put up with having a shadow for the time being."

"It's okay," Bobby murmured in concession. "I... I don't mind."

A big difference to his attitude before his abduction by the Centre, Deakins mused grimly. Then, he had protested vehemently at being 'babysat'. Now, he complied meekly, without argument. Deakins was amused to realise that he almost missed Bobby's belligerent attitude.

"C'mon," he said with a wry smile. "Let's go and see Frances."

* * *

"You thought I'd be angry."

Deakins glanced sideways at Bobby, and then smiled faintly as he realised what he meant.

"You mean, about following you here? Well, honestly speaking, I didn't know how you'd react. But I hoped that you'd at least understand the reason, even if you don't agree with it."

"Well, I'm okay with it," Bobby murmured. He slowed to a halt just inside the main doors, struggling to find the right words. "I… I'm grateful, Captain. For… this… For everything."

He was stumbling, searching painfully for the right words. Deakins clasped his shoulder gently, reassuringly.

"You're welcome, Bobby."

No falseties, no platitudes. Just a simple statement. Relief and gratitude filled Bobby's face, and he turned then and led the way to the reception counter.

* * *

The woman at the counter was vaguely familiar to Bobby, but he couldn't quite place her face, or recall her name. She, on the other hand, seemed to have no difficulties in recognising Bobby. On sighting him, her eyes went wide, and she snatched up the phone.

"Dr Shimo? Could you come to Reception, please? It's him, Frances Goren's son. Yes, Doctor, I'm positive… Yes, I will. Thankyou."

Bobby and the captain exchanged worried glances, and Deakins stepped up to the desk to speak for them both.

"We're here to see Frances Goren. Jimmy Deakins and Bobby Goren."

The woman nodded, and motioned to a row of chairs along the wall.

"Would you please have a seat, gentlemen? Dr Shimo wants to speak with you."

Bobby frowned, then, with a hint of panic in his eyes.

"Why? What's wrong? What's happened?"

A guarded look settled on the woman's face, and she motioned once more to the chairs.

"Please sit down. Dr Shimo won't be long."

Bobby was going to argue further but Deakins took him firmly by the arm and guided him over to sit in the reception chairs.

"Let's just wait, and see what the doctor has to say. All right?"

"But… What if…"

"Don't," Deakins told him in a low, authoritative tone. "Don't sit here guessing what it might be about. Let's just wait for Dr Shimo."

It was too late, though, to keep Bobby from spiralling into an agitated state of near-panic. By the time Dr Shimo appeared, nearly five minutes later, Bobby was back on his feet and pacing the floor like a caged tiger.

"Well," Shimo said in a distinctly unfriendly tone as he approached the two men. "It really is you, Bobby. When Kelly told me, I didn't know whether to believe her. It's been so damned long since you last bothered to show your face here."

Bobby stiffened visible, and then rounded on the doctor with a speed and agility that belied his visible injuries.

"What's happened? Where's my mother? What's happened to her?"

Shimo held up his hands defensively.

"She's fine. Honestly, Bobby, she is. She's doing well at the moment, which is quite a remarkable feat, considering."

"Then why the delay in being able to see her?" Deakins asked with a frown, not at all liking the hostility that the doctor was displaying towards Bobby. Shimo indicated towards the corridor.

"Would you both come with me, please?"

Bobby and Deakins exchanged glances, and then Bobby nodded in reluctant concession. Shimo nodded in grudging gratitude at their acquiescence.

"Thankyou."

* * *

"Doctor, what is this about?" Deakins asked, acutely aware of Bobby's rapidly increasing agitation. He couldn't blame him, either. Dr Shimo's bizarre attitude had him feeling increasingly agitated as well.

Shimo regarded Bobby critically. He was not going to pull any punches. Not now.

"Where have you been, Bobby? And don't try telling me that it's none of my business, because anything that affects your mother's wellbeing _is_ my business."

Bobby looked away uncomfortably. That was logic that he couldn't argue with.

"It's complicated," he mumbled, starting to wish he hadn't come.

Shimo frowned darkly, unimpressed either by Bobby's evasiveness or the captain's silence.

"Complicated. I see. Well, let me give you a clue as to what your mother's state of mind has generally been like while you've been gone."

Distress filled Bobby's face, and Deakins guessed that he probably didn't need a description to know how bad she had been.

"Please," Bobby whispered, still unable to look directly at the doctor. "Don't…"

"Don't what?" Shimo snapped. "Don't tell you about how she slipped back into one of her favourite delusions? The one where everyone is plotting to steal you away from her? Don't tell you how your one solitary phone call in nearly twelve months drove her right over the edge? Oh, and that was very considerate of you, by the way, to arrange for your colleagues to come and visit her, considering most of them didn't have the first clue about how to deal with her. Just another nail in the proverbial coffin. And all this time, I thought you were better than Frank. Obviously I was wrong."

"That's enough!" Deakins exploded, breaking his paralysis and finally launching himself to his feet to defend Bobby against the doctor's unwarranted verbal assault. "You don't know the first thing about what's been going on, so do not stand there in judgement over him!"

"All right, then," Shimo said coolly. "Enlighten me."

The captain paused, looking back at Bobby grimly. The last thing he'd expected on arrival at Carmel Ridge was to be confronted in this way, and it wasn't doing Bobby the slightest bit of good. Where he'd seemed quietly confident upon arrival at Carmel Ridge, now his body language told a complete different story. His shoulders were hunched, his head down and his entire countenance screamed withdrawn. Anger swept through Deakins like heat at the sight, and he wanted nothing more than to tell the doctor everything and make him understand just how wrong he was, but ultimately it was not his place to decide what to tell Dr Shimo. That was Bobby's choice to make, and his alone.

"Well?" Shimo demanded impatiently.

Slowly, Bobby raised his eyes from where they'd been fixed on the floor, and locked stares with the doctor. Shimo flinched visibly at the distress in Bobby's expression, much to Deakins' quiet satisfaction, and was forced to momentarily divert his gaze.

"Do you think I chose to stay away from my mother?" Bobby demanded in a guttural voice. "Do you think I purposely did it to torment her? Do you think any of it was my choice? Because believe me, Dr Shimo, it wasn't. I didn't choose to stay away from her anymore than I chose to be locked up by the group of privately-funded psychopaths who abducted me and experimented on me for nine months!"

Shimo couldn't help the incredulous look that filtered onto his face, and he raised an eyebrow in bemusement.

"Abducted? That's your story now? Bobby, have you considered that maybe, just maybe, you've suffered a minor psychotic break?"

"No, he hasn't," Deakins said sharply. "What he's telling you is true. He isn't delusional. He _was_ abducted. I was there when it happened, and the people who took him nearly killed me to get to him." He paused, taking in Shimo's sceptical look, and then spoke quietly, "If you want proof, Dr Shimo, I can give you proof."

Bobby looked at Deakins sharply, wondering if he had a sim disc in his possession and, if so, which one.

"What proof?" Shimo asked, frowning. Deakins reached into a deep pocket that was sewn into the inner lining of his jacket and produced not a disc, but a video tape. He nodded towards the television and video player.

"May I?"

"Be my guest," Shimo murmured, his curiosity getting the better of him. Deakins switched on the television and put the tape in. There were a few seconds of static, and then the static cleared to reveal a slightly grainy reproduction of security tape footage. Visible on the tape were Bobby, the captain, the Chief of Detectives, Lyle, Raines, Miss Parker and half a dozen Centre sweepers. The grim images unfolded, and Shimo watched in growing dismay as Deakins was hit from behind and knocked out cold. Then, Lyle approached Bobby, removed his gun and, finally, Raines stepped in and injected something into his neck.

Shimo groaned softly as he watched the image of Bobby collapsing to the floor, unconscious, to be rolled onto a stretcher, strapped down tightly and carried out of the office, leaving only the Chief of Detectives, his distraught assistant and an unconscious Jimmy Deakins behind them.

"Now do you believe it?" Deakins asked softly as he stopped the tape and ejected it. Shimo swung around in his chair, and his gaze quickly focused on Bobby.

"Let me get this straight. Basically, your mother's delusion that monsters had stolen you away…"

"Wasn't a delusion at all," Bobby whispered, tears filling his eyes and spilling down his cheeks before he could stop them. Shimo looked to Deakins for confirmation, and the captain answered in a soft, sad voice as he observed Bobby's hunched form.

"It's all true. The only reason Bobby is here now is because of a rescue that was planned and executed in absolute secret. The last two months have been spent helping Bobby to recover; physically, mentally and emotionally. We only just arrived back in New York three days ago, and the only reason Bobby hasn't come here sooner is because he had to go almost straight into the hospital for treatment. So don't judge him, Dr Shimo. Not until you know the truth."

"I'm sorry," Shimo said finally, in a noticeably subdued tone. "But I did find it difficult to believe… At least, until seeing that video. Can I ask, who was responsible?"

"An agency that calls itself the Centre," Deakins answered, and as he spoke it was impossible to miss the flash of recognition in Shimo's eyes. Immediately, Deakins felt his hackles rise, and he spoke in a forcibly calm voice. "You recognise the name."

It was no question, and Shimo made no attempt at denial.

"Yes," he agreed, "I do. That name has come up more than just occasionally when I've spoken to Frances. It seems to be the focal point of one of her worst delusions." He looked at Bobby. "The one where she believes you to have been taken by the unknown men… Except, it's not a delusion after all, is it?"

"No," Deakins confirmed. "It's not."

Sighing, Shimo slumped back in his seat.

"Damn. Bobby, I am truly sorry. I really am. Do you think you could possibly bring yourself to tell me anything about it?"

To Deakins' great surprise, Bobby spoke up immediately, without further prompting.

"I… I was sold to the Centre by my father when I was seven, just after Mom had her first break. I didn't see home again until I was twelve, when some people took a big risk to rescue me. In the five or so years I was in that place, I was put through simulations. I was used to determine the outcomes of various scenarios. I… I…"

"Bobby was a child genius who was manipulated and used in the worst possible ways," Deakins said softly when Bobby faltered. "He was experimented on, and treated inhumanely. He was rescued from that nightmare, but they came after him again eleven months ago. We tried to keep him safe, but it wasn't enough, and they took him back. We weren't able to get him out again until nine months later. You can't begin to imagine the physical, emotional and psychological damage that was done in that time, Dr Shimo."

"No, I imagine I can't," Shimo agreed. He paused, thinking back over the last eleven months, before speaking again. "So, that phone call you made to your mother…?"

"They let me make that call," Bobby admitted. "In… In exchange for my cooperation."

"Just the once?"

"It would have been more," Deakins admitted, his tone laced heavily with guilt. "But I made a terrible mistake. I had a divert placed on Frances' phone so that the next time Bobby was allowed to call her, he'd go through to my phone instead."

"Let me guess," Shimo said grimly as he eyed Bobby's hunched and silent form, and the slight tremor that swept through his body. "They found out."

"And Bobby was the one to suffer for it," Deakins confirmed.

"All right," Shimo said. "What we need to do, then, is decide how to tackle this with Frances."

Bobby looked back up at him slowly.

"You mean, tell her the truth, or lie to her."

"Exactly, " Shimo agreed. "And, in my opinion, if she does think to ask what happened to you, I believe we need to tell her the truth."

From the looks on Bobby and Deakins' faces, Shimo guessed that was not what they had expected to hear from him.

"You… think we should tell her the truth?" Bobby stammered. Shimo raised an eyebrow at him.

"You _don't_ think so? Seriously, Bobby, I do think she should hear the truth. Don't you think she has the right to know that something we've continually insisted were her own imaginings are, in fact, real?"

Bobby looked to Deakins wonderingly. He couldn't foresee where that particular path might lead, but he suddenly felt it was one that he was at least willing to tread.

"Okay," he whispered. Shimo smiled, and stood up.

"All right, then. Let's go and see Frances."

* * *

At Bobby's request, both Captain Deakins and Dr Shimo hung back, and let him go in on his own. He paused just inside the doorway, looking into a softly lit room, and at the elderly woman who occupied it. She didn't look up from the book she was reading, and he supposed she thought he was just another member of the Carmel Ridge nursing staff.

"If you've brought my medication, you're too early," she said suddenly, still not looking up. "Go away. I'm busy."

Bobby drew in a steadying breath. All of a sudden, he was horribly nervous, and the insane idea that she wouldn't even recognise him crept through his tired mind.

"Mom…?"

Frances Goren's head came up abruptly, and a familiar pair of brown eyes fixed on him. Silence reigned for nearly a minute before she spoke in a cool voice.

"So you finally bothered to come visit your poor mother for the first time in… how many months? I suppose I should be honoured, shouldn't I?"

Bobby stepped all the way into the room, carefully closing the door behind him. Frances' gaze flickered to the immobiliser that kept his right arm still, and a frown creased her features.

"What did you do to yourself now?"

"My… My shoulder was dislocated." _About twenty or more times_, he added silently, miserably. "The ligaments and muscles were all torn. It… A lot of damage was done."

"How?" Frances demanded to know. "Have you been in fights? Damn it, Bobby…"

He could almost see her slipping back to when he had been just a gangly teenager, and the unfortunate victim of more than one local bully.

"No, Mom," he told her gently. "I wasn't in a fight. I… I'm sorry I haven't been to see you."

"Are you? Are you really sorry? Not a sign of you for… how long? Not even a phone call! I thought I raised you better than that, Bobby."

His gaze dropped.

"I'm sorry, Mom."

"I should hope so. Now, come and sit down. Let me get a good look at you."

Bobby walked over, and sat down carefully on the bed, opposite her. She eyed him critically before speaking.

"Where have you been for so long, Bobby? I want an honest answer."

Bobby drew in a shuddering breath. He knew Dr Shimo had advocated telling her the truth, but how to put it, so that it didn't tip her over the edge?

"Mom… Something happened to me. Something bad. Do… Do you remember back to when I was seven? When… When you came home from the hospital that first time, I was gone. Dad… He might have told you that he'd sent me to stay with relatives… or friends."

Frances' gaze pierced him to the bone.

"I remember," she admitted tonelessly. "I remember you were kidnapped. People stole you away from me. I know everyone tells me that it's just another delusion, but…"

"It wasn't a delusion, Mom. It really happened."

Frances froze, staring at him intently.

"Say that again, Bobby?"

"I was taken away, Mom. But… I wasn't kidnapped. Not then. I… I was sold. Dad sold me… in return for money to take care of him, Frank… and you."

She said nothing, staring at him with an inscrutable look on his face. Bobby drew in another deep breath, and went on softly.

"It happened again, Mom," he whispered, and this time Frances visibly flinched.

"They came back for you," she hissed. "I tried to tell everyone, but they didn't believe me. _You_ didn't believe me."

Bobby raised his eyes slowly to meet her gaze, and tears spilled down his cheeks before he could stop them.

"I know. I'm sorry I didn't believe you, Mom. But, I didn't want to remember, not any of it. But they came for me again nearly a year ago. They… They took me…"

It suddenly all became too much and he broke down sobbing. It was a couple of minutes before he realised there was a pair of slender arms around him, cradling him close, and a warm, loving voice murmured reassurances into his ear.

"It's all right, my baby boy," Frances whispered. "It's all right now. You're safe. I won't let them have you again. I'll never let them have you again."

* * *

Outside Frances' room, Captain Deakins and Dr Shimo waited in uneasy silence, expecting trouble. The quiet from inside the room was unnerving, to say the least, and it was all either man could do not to just run in there. Finally, minutes later, Deakins spoke up tensely.

"It's too quiet. I want to know what's going on."

Shimo didn't argue. He wanted to know as much as the captain. Venturing forward, Shimo pushed the door open a fraction, and then a little more. A moment later, he looked back at Deakins with a grin.

"Come and look."

He stepped back, allowing Deakins to move up and peer into the room. He was met with a touching sight. Bobby and Frances sat next to each other on the bed, their backs to the door, and Frances was cradling her son in her arms as he cried into her shoulder. He watched for just a moment longer before stepping back and pulling the door gently closed once more.

"Thank God for that."

Dr Shimo nodded in visible relief.

"Yes," he murmured. "Thank God, indeed."

* * *

Mike, Carolyn and Alex returned to the Squad room an hour and a half after being sent out to a crime scene. While Alex promptly returned to her desk to call her parents, Mike and Carolyn headed into the break room to get some much-needed coffee.

"It's amazing," Carolyn said tiredly as Mike poured out coffee for them both.

"What is?"

"How quickly you can get used to not seeing sights like that."

Mike nodded in wordless agreement as he handed Carolyn her mug, and then began pouring out a third mug for Alex.

"Not that that was the worst scene I've ever attended," Carolyn added quickly, a touch defensively. Mike reached out and allowed his fingertips to brush her cheek lovingly, effectively silencing her.

"It's okay, Carolyn. I get what you're saying. It's our first crime scene after coming home. I'm betting Alex probably feels the same way. Don't worry about it."

Carolyn sighed and leaned into his willing embrace, taking comfort from having his arms folded protectively around her.

"I hope Bobby can come back to work, but a part of me can't help thinking that…"

She hesitated, suddenly unsure of what she was saying, but Mike continued the line of thought for her.

"You're thinking that maybe it wouldn't be such a bad thing if he didn't come back."

"I know, it's an awful thing to think," Carolyn said unhappily. "Especially after everything we've all been through. But there's so much ugliness in this job, and we see the worst of humanity every day. Hasn't Bobby seen enough of that?"

"I know," Mike murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of her head. "But ultimately, it's his choice, whether he can deal with the job again, or not. The important thing is making sure he knows we support him, no matter what he decides."

Alex wandered in at that moment, looking vaguely unsettled.

"What's wrong?" Carolyn asked, feeling her gut tighten instinctively.

"Nothing, I guess," Alex answered. "But, I called Mom and Dad, and there was no answer. King just told me that Deakins got a call from them not long after we left. They said they were taking Bobby to Carmel Ridge to see him mom. Deakins took Jackson, and they went with them."

"Carmel Ridge, huh?" Mike mused. "Can't imagine that'll be an easy visit for him. Still, he's got your folks, and he's got the captain. He should be okay."

"I know," Alex conceded. "I just hope that she isn't abusive to him. I really hope it's a good visit."

Mike handed her the coffee he'd poured for her, and she accepted it gratefully.

"Thanks."

"He'll be okay," Mike reassured her. "He's tougher than any of us really have given him credit for."

"I know he is, Mike," Alex answered with a knowing smile.

* * *

They were just heading back out into the bullpen when Ash strode over to them.

"Listen, you might want to know that there's someone down at Reception, asking after Bobby. We told Security to hold him there until we get back to them, and let them know what we want them to do."

"Did whoever it is identity themselves?" Mike asked, his voice suddenly tense. Ash nodded grimly.

"Yes, but whether he really is who he says he is, we don't know."

"Well?" Alex demanded. "Who is it?"

"The guy says his name is Frank Goren. He says he's Bobby's older brother."

* * *

_tbc..._


	35. An Unexpected Ally

_**A/N: It's official, I'm an idiot. I just now discovered that a nice big chunk is missing from the previous chapter. So I've reposted it, with the missing segments included. So anyone who is starved for a little B/A personal time, you might want to revisit the previous chapter before reading this one.**_

_**

* * *

**_

Frank Goren sat in increasingly nervous silence in Interrogation One, in the Major Case Squad rooms of One Police Plaza. He'd come with what he had thought was a simple enough request, to see his younger brother Bobby. To his astonishment, though, he'd been escorted up to the eleventh floor and straight into an interrogation room, where he had been locked in and left alone.

He didn't understand why, but it left him feeling more than a little scared.

Suddenly overcome with nervous agitation, Frank rose up and walked around to the large mirror, and tried to peer through to the other side to determine if anyone was watching him.

"Hey!" he yelled, thumping his fist on the glass. "Is someone there? Let me outta here!"

If someone was watching, they didn't respond. Frustrated, angry and frightened, Frank turned away and sat back down, sinking once more into a silent funk.

* * *

"Think he's really Bobby's brother?" Carolyn wondered as she and Mike observed the angry man in the interrogation room. Mike shrugged.

"I don't know. I suppose he looks a little like Bobby, but I kind of expected him to be... I don't know... _bigger_. If he is Bobby's older brother, he looks a little on the shrunk side."

"He looks like he's spent a lot of time on the streets," Carolyn mused. "If he's been homeless for a while, then that would account for his lack of bulk. But we won't know for sure until Alex comes back."

Mike sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face.

"Ash better look after her, because if those bastards are watching Bobby's place, then they're going to pounce on Alex turning up there."

"Ash will probably shoot anyone who even looks at them the wrong way," Carolyn retorted. "There's no way he'd take any chances. Look, here they come now."

Mike looked around as Alex walked into the observation room, with David Ash right behind her. Alex clutched a very small photo album in her hands.

"Any problems?" Mike wondered, and Ash grimaced.

"You were right. Someone is definitely watching his apartment. They didn't try to approach us, though, and we weren't followed back here."

"You didn't see who, though?"

"No, we don't know who, or how many."

Carolyn motioned to the album.

"Did you find a picture?"

"Yes, I found one," Alex confirmed grimly. "It is his brother, although he's looking a little worse for wear as opposed to how he looks in the photos I found."

She pulled out a photo, and showed it to her colleagues. Sure enough, the man in the photo standing side by side with a somewhat younger and more energised-looking Bobby Goren was the same man who currently sat in their interrogation room.

"So, we let him go, then?" Ash queried, but Mike shook his head.

"No."

"Mike, it's his brother..." Carolyn objected, but he shook his head.

"No, we don't let him go yet. Think about it! Don't you think it's a little coincidental that his brother suddenly shows up now, after being out of the picture for how long? Alex, do you know when the last time Bobby saw his brother was?"

"Not once in the time I've known him," Alex answered. "Up until the Garrett case, I wasn't even sure he really had a brother. I'd always thought the mystery brother that he always talked about to suspects was just a fabrication to con them into opening up to him."

"So he hasn't seen his brother in at least six years," Mike concluded. "And now big brother turns up out of the blue, just a few days after we bring Bobby home, after rescuing him from that hell hole? Something's wrong with this picture, people."

"Mike's right," Alex said softly. "Something's wrong."

"You think the Centre might have recruited him to lure Bobby out into the open, where they could grab him again?" Ash asked in concern.

"We have to look at that as a possibility," Mike answered. "And I, for one, am not going to take any chances. We leave him there until the captain gets back, and then figure out what to do with him."

* * *

Captain Deakins arrived back at One Police Plaza after seeing Bobby, John and Helen safely home again. While Bobby had not exactly been upbeat when they left Carmel Ridge, nor had he been particularly depressed or miserable, either. Rather, there had been an odd calm that seemed to be centred on him. It was a sense of calm that had been missing for a long time from his being.

Witnessing that sense of calm in him now gave Deakins as much of a feeling of hope as he'd experienced since they had finally rescued Bobby from the hell that was the Centre. It gave Deakins hope that, once Bobby's remaining physical injuries had healed up, there might be a good chance of him finally returning to work.

He and Jackson arrived back at One Police Plaza to a tension-charged atmosphere. They'd barely exited the elevator when Mike reappeared, his features lined with worry.

"Captain, I'm glad you're back. We might have a problem..."

Deakins regarded him quizzically, and with more than just a spark of fear as he took in the other man's concerned expression.

"What's wrong, Mike?"

"We're not exactly sure," Mike admitted. "We, uh... We have Bobby's brother locked in Interrogation One."

Deakins blinked in astonishment, wondering momentarily whether he was hearing things.

"Did you just say, his _brother_? Are you positive?"

"Yeah," Mike confirmed. "Alex went to Bobby's apartment, and found a photo of the guy for comparison. It's definitely him."

For the second time in less than a minute, Deakins did a double-take.

"Alex went to Bobby's apartment? We agreed no one would go back there until it was properly secured!"

"She didn't go alone," Mike assured him. "Ash went with her. They said someone was watching the place, but they weren't followed when they left."

Deakins sighed softly, and rubbed a hand over his face as he headed through into his office, with Mike right behind him.

"Damn it. They have people here in the city. They'll know where Bobby is soon enough, if they don't already. And assuming that Bobby wasn't hallucinating the other night in the hospital, then they already have at least one person tailing him. What are they waiting for?"

"For us to let our guard down?" Mike suggested. "They know we'll come out guns blazing if they try anything. They probably figure that if they're patient, and wait it out, sooner or later they'll get an opportunity to grab him again."

"That's not going to happen," Deakins said heatedly.

"I'm not arguing with you, there," Mike agreed. "Like you said, we'll shed blood before we let them take him again. But right now, we've got another problem, and it's sitting in Interrogation One."

"His brother," Deakins muttered. "He just showed up here?"

"Yeah. Downstairs says he was going on about wanting to 'catch up' with Bobby. Wouldn't say anything else. Do you know how long it's been since Bobby had any contact with the guy? Alex said he hasn't seen or talked to him once in the time that she's known him, and that's... how long?"

"About six years," Deakins answered. "The last time Bobby saw his brother was nearly ten years ago, Mike. Bobby was a Narc, and Frank came to him looking for a few free samples. Bobby turned him down flat, and Frank answered him back with a butcher knife and eight or nine stab wounds. Luckily the guy was half out of it from a mix of cheap booze and drugs, and none of the stab wounds went deeper than half an inch, or Bobby wouldn't be here now. Bobby refused to press charges, Frank walked, and there's been no sign of him since."

"Bobby told you all that?" Mike asked, stunned, and Deakins shook his head with a wry smile.

"Hardly. No, I got the story from his former captain over at Narcotics. He thought he'd give me some forewarning about Frank when Bobby came over to Major Case. Just in case the son of a bitch turned up, trying to make trouble for Bobby."

"Any idea why he might have decided to show up now?" Mike wondered. The captain eyed him critically.

"Yes, and you've got the exact same idea. Otherwise, you wouldn't have locked him into one of our interrogation rooms. How long has he been in there for now?"

"Ah... Maybe forty minutes or so. He's pretty pissed off."

"All right," Deakins said quietly as he hung up his coat, slipped on his jacket and buttoned it up. "Let's go and have a chat with Frank."

* * *

Frank Goren looked up sourly as the door finally opened, and two men walked in. One he didn't recognise, while the other was the one who had locked him inside the interrogation room. As he watched, the younger of the two men took up position in a corner of the room, leaning back against the wall and folding his arms across his chest. The silver-haired man whom he didn't recognise sat down at the table, immediately opposite him, and fixed him with a piercing stare.

"So you're Frank Goren."

Frank shifted slightly in the chair. The man's tone left him feeling uncomfortable and nervous, even more than he already was.

"Yeah. So?"

Deakins leaned in a little, his expression hardening even more.

"What are you doing here, Frank?"

The abruptness of the question caught Frank completely off-guard, and for a couple of seconds he did a remarkably good impression of a guppy before finally finding his voice.

"Damn, you're not wasting any time, are you?" Frank grumbled, trying too late to sound nonchalant in his response. "Don't I even get to find out who you are?"

"Captain James Deakins," was the icy reply. "I'm your brother's commanding officer."

Frank glanced to Mike, and then back to Deakins. He saw the truth in their eyes long before either of them actually said it.

"You're not going to let me see him, are you?"

"That depends, Frank," Deakins answered. "What I want to know is _why_ do you want to see him?"

Silence met the question, and the two men stared at each other intently. Finally, Frank spoke incredulously.

"Why? You want to know _why_? Him being my brother isn't enough of a reason?"

"Right here, right now? No, it isn't enough."

In a gesture that was reminiscent of Bobby, Frank slammed a fist down on the table, frustrated and angry.

"I don't fucking believe this. What the fuck is going on here? I came looking to see Bobby... I haven't seen him for nearly ten fucking years... But instead I get locked up in this fucking room, and everyone's playing fucking mind games! Is Bobby here, or isn't he?"

"He's not here today," Deakins told him flatly. "And don't act so hard done by. The last time you saw your brother, you didn't exactly have a happy reunion. Or don't you remember stabbing him after he refused to supply you with drugs?"

Frank blanched visibly at that.

"I didn't..."

"Don't," Deakins snapped. "Don't sit there and make denials. This is only the second time in ten years that you've attempted to make contact with your brother. The last time you were looking to make a gain out of him. Look me in the eye, and tell me that you're not here to make a gain out of him again. Tell me!"

But suddenly, Frank couldn't maintain eye contact with the captain. Deakins sighed softly and shut his eyes for a moment in an attempt to regain his equilibrium.

"Someone paid you to draw Bobby out, didn't they?" Mike asked, struggling to keep his voice low and even. Frank stared darkly at the top of the table.

"Yeah," he mumbled finally. "They... They might've."

"All right," Deakins said finally, in a markedly softer voice. "Who paid you?"

When Frank didn't answer, Deakins spoke again in a fierce tone.

"Who paid you to get to your brother?"

"I don't know who they are, okay?" Frank burst out. "I was at a shelter, and this guy approached me. He said I could earn big money quickly, and all I had to do was get Bobby out into the open."

"And you agreed," Deakins said in quiet disgust. Frank nodded, shameless in his admission.

"Hell, yeah. He gave me five hundred on the spot, and told me there was another fifteen hundred in it for me when I completed my end of the bargain. No way was I turning down that sort of money for a brother that I haven't seen more than twice in twenty fucking years."

Mike walked forward slowly, barely able to keep from throttling Frank on the spot.

"You sorry son of a bitch. You didn't even ask what they wanted with him? You might have been helping to set him up to be killed! Don't you give a damn about that?"

"Like I said," Frank answered, "I've seen him twice in twenty years. Why would I give a fuck? Anyway, the guy never said anything about killing Bobby. He just said that he needed Bobby to finish off some work that he'd started. He said Bobby had skipped out on an important project and that they didn't want to hurt him. They just needed him back to finish the project." Frank chuckled darkly. "I thought it was pretty funny, actually. Bobby was always so fucking high and mighty. _He_ was the one who kept his life together. _He_ was the one who always finished what he started. _He_ was the one who _didn't_ turn out like Dad. And here I've got someone telling me that he skipped out like the loser he's always accused me of being!"

Deakins and Mike exchanged disgusted looks, each one of the same mind. Here was a mutt who was willing to sell out his brother for a measly two thousand dollars, and they couldn't charge him with a single offence.

"Describe the man who approached you," Deakins ordered Frank. Scowling, Frank answered in a sullen mumble.

"He was tall... kind of average looking. He had a broken leg, and he looked like he'd been beat up pretty badly in the last few days."

"Beaten up?" Deakins queried, his interest piqued, and Frank nodded.

"Yeah. Lots of cuts and bruises, and stuff like that. Oh... and he was missing a thumb on one hand."

"Lyle," Deakins growled. "That son of a bitch..."

Frank looked up at Deakins, sneering slightly.

"So who's the bigwig you think I was selling my little brother out to?"

Mike leaned down, staring hard at Frank.

"You really don't know who he is?"

"Are you gonna believe me if I say no?" Frank shot back.

Mike stepped back from the table, turning his attention to Deakins.

"So what are we going to do? We can't hold this asshole on anything, but if we let him go, it could put Bobby at risk."

"At risk of what?" Frank asked, eyeing them both sceptically. Mike shot him a threatening look.

"You've admitted that you're willing to sell out your brother for a couple of thousand dollars. Why the hell should we tell you anything?"

Frank frowned, then.

"Hey! It's not like I _want_ him to get hurt! These people, they just want him to finish the project that he started for them. What the fuck is so bad about that?"

"He has no friggin' idea," Mike muttered, turning away in anger. Deakins' expression was hard.

"No, he doesn't. But he's going to."

* * *

"What the hell is this all about?" Frank demanded to know as Mike pushed a television and DVD player into the interrogation room, and Deakins followed with a handful of discs in his hand.

"This, Frank," Mike said as he plugged both television and DVD player in, "is a reality check. A really big friggin' reality check. You're about to find out just who and what you were so willing to sell your brother out to."

Scowling, Frank sat back with a thud.

"You're full of crap. I want out of here! I'll fucking sue all of you if you don't let me go."

"You'll stay there, and shut the hell up," Deakins snapped as he slid a disc into the player. "You're going to look at what's on these discs, and you're going to understand just what sort of nightmare your brother escaped from, and what sort of nightmare you want to sell him back in to."

Frank winced in the face of Deakins' anger, and said nothing more, only watching the television screen in reluctant anticipation. Satisfied that Frank was finally paying attention, Deakins hit play, stepped back out of the way of the screen, and waited.

* * *

_Bobby lay on the floor, curled up in as tight a ball as he could manage. He was cold, naked, and his body was covered in cuts and bruises from the latest beating he'd suffered at the hands of Raines' men. He was in pain, and couldn't so much as flex his fingers without inducing sickening waves of pain. Right then, all he wanted was to be left alone, but he knew that wasn't going to happen. _

_His suspicions were confirmed when a shadow fell across him, and someone crouched down beside him._

"_Hey, Bobby. How're you feeling, buddy?"_

_

* * *

_

"That's him," Frank said tensely. "That's the guy who gave me the money."

Neither Deakins nor Mike said anything, but continued to watch in silence. Visibly unsettled, Frank turned his attention back to the television screen.

* * *

"_Leave me alone," Bobby managed to mumble, but Lyle only laughed. _

"_Sorry, pal. Can't do that. So, are you ready to cooperate?"_

"_Fuck you," Bobby whispered. A moment later, he sobbed in pain as Lyle placed his knee squarely on Bobby's bruised hip and applied his full body weight. _

"_You must really like pain, my friend. How about now?"_

"_Fuck... you... and fuck Raines, too," Bobby sobbed. Then the pressure was gone, and Lyle stood up._

"_Okay, Bobby. Have it your way."_

_And then Bobby was screaming as Lyle planted the heel of his foot on Bobby's swollen right shoulder and ground it in hard_...

* * *

"That's gotta be fake," Frank rasped as Deakins stopped and ejected the disc, and immediately inserted a new one. "You... You faked that... somehow."

Deakins said nothing, but pressed play again. There was a moment of static on the screen, and then they found themselves watching the horrific scene where Raines had implanted the tracking device inside Bobby's body. They watched as Bobby was strapped down and secured, and then Raines first injected something into his back and then cut him open with a scalpel.

"Oh, shit..." Frank moaned, cringing and looking away. "Turn it off. Please, turn it off..."

Deakins hesitated for a few seconds before complying and stopping the disc. He then looked back at Frank, taking in the man's ashen features with grim satisfaction.

"That, Mr Goren, is evidence of the torture that was perpetrated on your brother over a period of nine months, before we rescued him. And that's what you'd be sending him back to if you succeeded in turning him over to Lyle. Now tell me, are you still so willing to sell your brother out?"

Frank didn't respond. He stared at the now blank television screen in heavy silence, lost within his own thoughts. Deakins and Mike waited patiently, giving the man the chance to think the situation through thoroughly. When Frank finally came back to the present, he looked up at them with horrified realisation in his eyes.

"Oh god... When we were kids... Dad sent Bobby away... He told me it was a special program, but I always wondered... Bobby was gone for five years! When he came home, he was different... He was scared, of everything, but he never talked to me about what had happened to him. Oh god... What you just showed me, that's what happened to him when he was a kid, too, wasn't it?"

"Yes," Deakins confirmed quietly. "It was. And you were going to sell him back into it."

"I didn't know," Frank whispered. "I... I swear, I didn't know..."

"And now you do know. The question is, what do you plan on doing?"

Frank didn't speak immediately, but instead reached into his coat and pulled out a clip that held five one hundred dollar bills. He set it on the table, and pushed it away from him with a violent shudder.

"Fuck them," he said hoarsely. "I can't do that to Bobby. I _won't_. Not to my little brother. _Fuck them_." He looked up at Deakins, tears visible in his eyes. "I'm sorry. I really am. I had no idea."

"I won't say it's all right," Deakins said quietly, "but if you really are sincere, then that's a start."

"I said I didn't give a fuck about Bobby. That... that isn't true. I really didn't think that guy wanted to hurt him. I would never have agreed, or taken his money, if I'd known."

"Do you still want to see your brother?" Deakins asked quietly, ignoring the incredulous look that Mike fired in his direction. Frank swallowed hard, and rubbed the back of his hand across his eyes.

"Yeah," he said finally, softly. "I do."

* * *

"Are you sure this is a good idea, taking him to see Bobby?" Alex asked anxiously when Deakins and Mike emerged from the interrogation room and joined her in the observation room. They'd left Frank there for the moment, and this time he didn't object.

"You think he's trying to play us," Deakins said, and it was no question. Alex paused, staring at Frank through the glass. He sat with his face in his hands – the very persona of an utterly dejected man.

"Honestly? Yes, I do."

"I don't," Deakins said plainly. "Look at him, Alex. He had no idea what Lyle wanted with Bobby."

"So we take him to Bobby, and then what?" Alex pressed. "You think Bobby's going to be thrilled to see him? You said it yourself! The last time they saw each other, Frank stabbed him! And you want to take him to my parents house?"

"No," Deakins assured her. "We aren't going to take him there. I want to call John and Helen, and arrange a place to meet. Somewhere public, but also some place where we can provide Bobby with adequate protection. Any thoughts, people?"

"You don't want to know what _my_ thoughts are," Alex retorted. Deakins smiled faintly. He'd half expected a retort like that from her, and wasn't phased at all.

"Alex," he told her quietly, "this is probably the best way of showing Frank the damage that the Centre really did. Seeing the sim discs is bad, but it's impersonal. If we take him to meet with Bobby, face to face, then I think that will have a much bigger impact on him. After that, if he disappears again then so be it. But I think this is the way to go to ensure that he gives up any ideas of betraying Bobby."

"I still think it's a bad idea," Alex muttered. "Even if he's genuine, what good is it going to do Bobby?"

"We might all be surprised, Alex," Deakins answered.

"Hey, how about the public library?" Mike suddenly suggested. "We could lock that place down totally, if we needed to."

Deakins nodded slowly, liking the idea more with every moment that passed.

"The library is a good idea, Mike. Bobby would feel comfortable there, and safe. Okay, I'm going to call John and Helen, and see whether Bobby's up to a trip into the city. If he's feeling up to it, we'll do it this afternoon."

"Captain," Alex protested, "he's just come back from visiting his mom! And you want to go straight ahead and throw him together with his reprobate brother?"

Deakins sighed. He could understand her reluctance, but her protests were starting to go beyond what he considered reasonable, even given her obvious concern for Bobby's wellbeing.

"What is it that's really bothering you, Alex? If you're worried that this is putting Bobby at risk, then I promise you that he'll be completely protected."

"It's not that," Alex admitted grudgingly. "At least, it's not _only_ that. I trust you, Captain, and I know that we can't keep him insulated forever."

"Then what?"

She nodded towards where Frank Goren sat in the interrogation room.

"I don't trust _him_."

Deakins laid a hand reassuringly on her shoulder.

"Don't worry about him, Alex. We're not going to take any chances. I guarantee it."

* * *

Two hours later, Frank Goren was led down to One Police Plaza's garage, and into the back of a surveillance van. He was clean, and outfitted from head to toe in standard NYPD cap, sweats and running shoes. He appeared less than thrilled with his new attire, but he dared not complain, either about the clothing or the full body cavity search to which he had been subjected.

He had started to protest once he realised what was coming, but Bobby's captain had been firm. It was either endure the embarrassing and uncomfortable procedure, or forget about seeing Bobby, _ever_. He would have protested that, except it was all too easy to see that the cops' concerns were exclusively for Bobby's wellbeing. They cared about him, and they wanted to keep him safe, and in the end that was primarily what had kept Frank in a cooperative frame of mind.

To his own surprise, though, Frank had discovered that he wanted to see his brother badly enough to go along with the extreme measures, and that in itself was an astonishing thing to him. He hadn't thought that he cared about Bobby enough to have anything to do with him when there was no cash incentive, but apparently he was wrong. Now, as he sat watching the cityscape pass by, he found himself reflecting on the years of his childhood, from which Bobby had been absent.

The first few months without his too-smart little brother had been good. Frank wouldn't deny that. He might have been a no-good gambling addict and sometimes-drunk, but he was more or less honest – at least with himself. He'd enjoyed the freedom of being an only child again, and the sole focus of his parents. He'd been thrilled at not having to compete for recognition with a little brother whose intelligence far outstripped his own.

Somewhere along the line, though, his little brother's absence steadily became more pronounced. He remembered finally gathering the courage to ask his father when Bobby was coming home, and the response he'd gotten was burned forever into his mind.

"_You don't have a brother, Frank."_

"_But… What about Bobby?"_

The slap across the face had been as unexpected as it was unwarranted, and Frank remembered falling over backwards onto the floor and staring up at his father in shock. Goren Senior had stood over him threateningly, genuine anger in his face, along with… guilt…?

"_Don't ever say that name again, Frank. You don't have a brother anymore. Forget that you ever had a brother. Do you hear me? Just forget about him!"_

And so Frank had tried to do just that. Then, when Bobby reappeared more than four and a half years later, it had taken a hell of a lot to convince Frank that he was the real deal.

"Thinking deep thoughts?"

Frank looked around at the detective whom he had heard called Alex. Her harsh tone didn't surprise him. It was easy to tell that this little spitfire was his brother's partner, particularly from the way she was so protective of him.

"I was remembering some stuff," he admitted. He paused, and then asked softly. "My father handed Bobby over to those people as a kid, didn't he?"

"Yes, he did," Deakins confirmed, watching Frank critically.

"Actually, he did worse than that," Mike said. "He sold your brother to them."

Frank didn't argue. Instead, he laughed softly, bitterly.

"You know, that doesn't surprise me? The old son of a bitch was always after an easy buck. It doesn't surprise me at all that he'd sell one of his kids."

"Bobby said you took a week to let him back into your bedroom when he finally came home," Alex said coolly, and Frank had the good grace to look embarrassed.

"He's right. I wouldn't let him in. But despite what he might remember, it wasn't Mom bribing me that made me let him back in."

"Really," Alex said, her voice laden with scepticism.

"Look," Frank said softly, "you've gotta understand, I was totally freaked out when Bobby came home. It had been five years, and I guess I'd convinced myself that he was dead. It took about a week for me to realise that it wasn't some sort of trick, and that it really was Bobby." Frank was silent for a moment while he contemplated his next question. "It… It really happened to him again?"

"You saw the discs," Mike snapped. "You still think we faked them? Because there are a whole lot more we can show you."

"No, I believe they're for real," Frank assured him. "I just… Man, it's hard to picture Bobby locked up somewhere."

"Try imagining how hard it was for him," Alex said in a soft, bitter voice. "Try imagining going through hell for nine months, never seeing daylight, being held at someone else's whim, your life no longer your own. Try to imagine being physically, mentally and emotionally tormented for nine months, and being tortured within an inch of your life if you don't fully cooperate. Try imagining _that_."

Frank shut his eyes, sickened by grief and guilt.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, stricken. "God, Bobby, I am so sorry…"

* * *

John Eames was there in the lobby when they arrived. He greeted them amiably enough, but there was an underlying tension that none of them could possibly miss.

"John…" Deakins started to say, but John cut him off.

"I'm going to be brutally honest with you, Jim. I'm not happy about this. I don't believe he was up to coming out again. The only reason we're here now is because it was Bobby's decision."

"We don't intend on keeping him out for long," Deakins assured him. "But I think this could be important for Bobby, and I didn't want to take Frank to your house. The library seemed like good, neutral territory, but it's also a place we can keep secured."

John nodded, mildly agitated.

"Fair enough. I'm not disputing you, and like I said, it was Bobby's decision."

"Where is he?" Deakins asked, and John smiled in wry amusement.

"Guess."

* * *

"Crime fiction?" Frank mused as he approached the desk where Bobby sat, leafing slowly through a book. "Let me guess. Sherlock Holmes, right? He always was your favourite."

Bobby looked up slowly, and Frank winced visibly at his brother's pale, gaunt countenance, as well as the very visible bruising. For a few seconds that seemed to stretch into eternity, the two brothers stared at each other. Finally, Bobby indicated the vacant seat across from him, and Frank sat down.

"I like Sherlock Holmes," Bobby said quietly. "He's smart, but he's not perfect. He… He has his flaws, like anyone."

"Just like you, huh?" Frank asked in an equally subdued tone. Bobby closed the book and sat back, eyeing Frank wearily.

"What do you want, Frank? If you're after money, then forget it. I don't have anything to give you. I don't even have enough to support myself at the moment."

"I don't want money, Bobby."

"Then what _do_ you want?"

Frank paused, watching his brother thoughtfully before finally throwing himself in head-first.

"Bobby, I'm not going to lie to you. I've met Lyle."

Even as Frank watched, what little colour there was in Bobby's face literally bled away. An instant later, he began looking around, genuine fear in his eyes, as though searching for an escape route.

"Settle down, Bobby," Frank told him gently. "He's not waiting in the wings, or anything like that, and your friends are right around that corner." He paused, and then added ruefully. "I'm not going to try and take you to him, either. I think your captain would probably shoot me if I tried."

Slowly, Bobby's gaze returned to Frank, and when he spoke his voice had a fresh edge to it, that Frank could only describe as borderline panic.

"What do you want?"

"I need to talk to you. Just this once, and if you want to tell me to get lost after that, then I'll accept that. Will you hear me out?"

It seemed to Frank that Bobby was going to say no, but finally, reluctantly, Bobby conceded.

"Fine."

"Okay," Frank murmured, relieved. "It was yesterday that he came to me. He never gave me a name. Told me it wasn't any of my concern. Oh, and you might like to know he looked like he'd been in a train wreck. Broken leg, neck in a brace, the works."

A tiny smile flickered across Bobby's lips as he rubbed unconsciously at his chest, but he said nothing. Frank went on, acutely aware of Bobby's reaction.

"He told me that he wanted me to help him get you out into the open, and there'd be a nice little pay packet in it for me if I was willing to help him out."

"And you agreed," Bobby said flatly.

"Yeah," Frank admitted. "I did. Believe me, I'm sorry about that. If I'd had any idea what that son of a bitch had done to you, I would have put a fucking knife through his heart instead."

Confusion flickered briefly across Bobby's face.

"You know…?"

"About the Centre? Yeah, I do now. Your captain clued me in. And… now I know what Dad did to you when we were kids. Jesus, Bobby, I am so sorry. I never knew… I never wanted to know."

Bobby looked away, suddenly feeling incredibly tired.

"Wasn't your fault."

"No… but I didn't help any, especially after you came home. And now… Damn, I was actually going to sell you out to those fucks! Bobby, I wouldn't blame you if you punched me out right here and now."

Slowly, Bobby raised his gaze to meet Frank's.

"How do I know I can trust you?"

"I guess you don't, not for sure," Frank conceded. "But you're a smart guy, Bobby. Always were. Look me in the eye, and you decide if I'm on the level."

For nearly a minute, the two brothers stared at each other, neither one so much as blinking. Finally, Bobby released Frank from the mental hold he had on him, and dropped his gaze back to the desk.

"Thankyou," he whispered. Frank hesitated, and then pulled his chair around so that he was sitting next to his little brother.

"For what, Bobby?"

"For believing it."

Frank rested a hand on Bobby's left shoulder, quietly conscious of the way Bobby flinched under his touch.

"Can you forgive me? I nearly turned you back over to those fucks, after all."

A small smile crossed Bobby's face.

"Like you said, Captain Deakins would have shot you first. And so would Alex and Mike. And probably most of the Major Case Squad."

Frank gave a low chuckle.

"Yeah… You're probably right about that. And since I have no desire to be a human sprinkler, I think I'll pass."

"Did… Did Lyle pay you?"

"Yeah, five hundred as a down payment. I gave it to your captain. I don't want money like that. Not for what they wanted me to do."

"But… you would have… if my colleagues hadn't intercepted you."

It was Frank's turn to wince, then, as the harsh truth bit deep.

"Yeah," he confessed, feeling his face heat up as he spoke. "I would have kept the money. I would have turned you over to them. I'm really, really sorry, Bobby."

"I believe you, Frank," Bobby told him quietly. "And… I do trust you."

The surprise on Frank's face was palpable. It was clear that the last thing he'd expected from Bobby was such an open admission of trust, especially when he knew damned well that he'd done nothing to deserve it.

"You… do?"

"You're surprised by that?" Bobby asked.

"Well, yeah… I mean, I haven't exactly given you a reason to trust me, have I?"

"Maybe not," Bobby agreed. "But on the other hand… I've always known when you were lying, and I know that this time, you're not."

Frank's eyebrows went up, almost comically.

"You know? Care to share the insight?"

Bobby answered quietly, sincerely.

"Because you've never been able to look me straight in the eye when you lie. You're looking me in the eye now. I know you're not lying, because you're looking me in the eye."

"Well," Frank mumbled, suddenly and inexplicably embarrassed. "How do you know that I haven't just gotten better at lying?"

At that, Bobby smiled.

"Seen Mom recently, Frank?"

The simple question threw Frank into a fluster that almost had Bobby laughing openly.

"Uh… Sure… I mean… I was gonna go see her a couple of weeks ago… but I got caught up. You… You know how it is. But I will. I… I'll go see her on the weekend. I will…"

Bobby grinned in open amusement. Frank's gaze were suddenly going everywhere but towards his brother, and he didn't even seem to be aware of it. Leaning forward a little, Bobby spoke in a gentle but commanding tone.

"I rest my case."

Frank's head snapped up, and the two men stared at each other for a moment before Frank finally chuckled and relaxed.

"Touché. Point taken." He paused, looking Bobby over while at the same time marvelling at the new feeling of brotherly concern that he was experiencing. "Are you okay now? Can you… you know… talk about it?"

And suddenly it was Bobby's turn to be fixated with the desk.

"I… I'm not okay. Not yet… but I'm getting there. I can talk about it, but it's not easy. There's so much…"

His voice faltered, and he fell silent. Frank stared at his younger brother before finally, without saying a word, he leaned in and, gently taking hold of Bobby's left wrist, lifted up his brother's shirt to reveal the grim evidence of nine months of horrendous abuse. When he looked back up, he wasn't surprised to see tears in Bobby's eyes.

"C'mere, baby brother," Frank whispered, and pulled Bobby to him in as fierce an embrace as he dared to give. "I might not have been there for you when you needed me, but I hope you'll let me make it up to you now. I love you, Bobby. I know it hasn't seemed like it, but I really do. Let me help to take care of you now?"

Bobby's didn't speak; nor did he need to. Instead, he tightened his hold on his brother, shuddering as a wave of emotion washed over him.

"We're gonna figure out a way to get those bastards off your back, forever," Frank murmured as he hugged Bobby to him. "They're not gonna know what hit them. Nobody messes with my little brother. _Nobody_."

* * *

Deakins, Alex, John and Helen were waiting in increasingly nervous silence, just around the corner. John kept glancing at his watch, while Alex was becoming more agitated with every passing moment. The captain was not particularly at ease, either, though he seemed to be doing a better job of hiding it.

Nearly half an hour had passed before Alex finally broke the silence.

"It's been too long. I'm going around there."

"Alex…" Deakins said in a low, warning tone, but she brushed him off with a rough shake of her head.

"No! I said this was a bad idea, and I still think that! How do we know that two-faced son of a bitch hasn't done anything to Bobby? How do we know his whole 'I'm so sorry' routine wasn't just an act?"

Deakins couldn't answer that and, fortunately, he didn't need to try. At that moment, movement drew their attention, and they looked around as Bobby and Frank emerged from around the corner of the tall shelving units.

"Are you okay?" Alex asked anxiously, hurrying over to Bobby. He answered her with a small smile, and drew her in close with his good arm.

"I'm okay," he confirmed, and then turned his gaze to Deakins. "Frank and I were talking about ways to… to get Lyle and the rest of them to leave me alone… for good. We… We think we have an idea."

* * *

_tbc..._


	36. A Light at the End of the Tunnel

A/N: _This chapter turned out to be regrettably shorter than I'd hoped, but it's still five pages worth, so I figured that's not too bad. I have to admit, I'll be very interested to see the reactions to this chapter. I dislike begging for reviews, because I think that's a little demeaning, but I really would love to hear people's thoughts on the path that this chapter has gone down. My beta reader looked through it and came out the other end slightly on the green side. All I'll say is this: Fluff with purpose. Enjoy…_

_

* * *

_

Frank left the library alone, after determining the when and where details of his next meeting with Bobby. He'd provided Bobby and his support base with as much information as he could – now, it was up to them.

Once outside, he ducked around behind the steps, out of sight, and waited. Nearly ten minutes later, Bobby and his entourage finally exited the library. His brother, he noted in amusement, had at least three good-sized books tucked under his good arm, and the little spitfire was loaded up with another four or five.

He watched as they climbed into waiting vehicles, and headed away from the building, whisking Bobby away to who knew where. He'd asked Bobby on the quiet just where he was staying, but Bobby had neatly ducked the question and refused to give him an answer. The only response he'd gotten was 'somewhere safe'. Just quietly, Frank didn't blame him. As much as Bobby claimed to trust his older brother, the truth was that they still had a long way to go before Frank earned that level of trust from Bobby.

Once the vehicles were out of sight, Frank was just getting ready to do his own disappearing act when a familiar, silky voice spoke from directly behind him.

"Have a happy little reunion?"

Frank turned slowly, his breath catching in his throat at the sight of Lyle. Even banged up as he clearly was, he was still intimidating.

"You're watching me?" he asked hoarsely. "Or… was it Bobby you were watching?"

Lyle smirked.

"Does it really matter, Frank?"

"I… I guess not. I guess I kind of thought that maybe you would've tried take Bobby from here."

"Too many cops on the lookout for us," Lyle answered simply. "Did you tell him what I told you to?"

"Yeah, I told him," Frank said sullenly. "But, he told me a few things, too…"

"Oh? Such as?"

Frank hesitated, staring uneasily at the other man. There was something about the absolute calm that Lyle exuded that genuinely scared him.

"Look… I just need to know… You aren't going to hurt Bobby, are you?"

The smug smile that he got in response sent chills down Frank's spine.

"That's really none of your concern now, is it, Frank?"

"You son of a bitch, you are…"

An instant later, Lyle grabbed Frank by the collar of his shirt and slammed him back into the concrete.

"Listen up, you sorry piece of filth. You listen close. We had a deal, and you are _not_ backing out of it now. No, I don't want to hurt Bobby, and that's the God's honest truth, but whether he gets hurt or not is going to depend entirely on him, just like it always has. He cooperates, and everything will be fine. He doesn't, and it's only himself that he'll be screwing over. He knows the drill, and it's none of your concern. You just worry about doing the job that we're paying you to do. Now, just to show you that I'm a reasonable guy, I'm going to sweeten it for you a little. How does an extra ten thousand sound on top of the fifteen hundred we agreed to?"

Frank's mouth promptly went dry. It had been a long, _long_ time since he'd been fronted with that sort of money.

"T… Ten thousand? Dollars…?"

Lyle sneered at him.

"Well, I don't mean yen. What do you think, Frank? Is that enough to keep you focused on what's important?"

Frank shut his eyes, and struggled to settle himself.

"I… I want half. Now."

A shark-like grin spread across Lyle's face.

"I thought you might."

He pulled a wad of cash from within his coat, and pressed it into Frank's hand, before finally stepping back, leaving Frank to gasp and rub at his throat.

"Asshole," he rasped, drawing an amused chuckle from Lyle.

"Lucky I'm not out to win popularity contests. I've got a job to do, and that's to make sure that your little brother gets put back where he belongs, in our care. You just make sure you do what you're supposed to do."

Frank glared at him sourly.

"Don't worry, Mr Lyle. I told him exactly what you told me to tell him. I'm meeting him next Saturday for lunch, and we're supposed to be going to visit our mom together afterwards."

"How sweet," Lyle retorted. "Lunch at Angelique's?"

"Right," Frank confirmed, his gaze fixed on his feet. "We'll be there at the time that you said. The rest is up to you."

Lyle nodded, satisfied.

"Very good, Frank. Now, why don't you take that money, and go buy yourself some decent clothes? And then go check yourself into a hotel for a few nights? Don't even think about going wandering, because we _will_ be checking on you. You just won't know when."

Frank nodded sullenly, watching as Lyle turned and limped heavily away. It was only once the evil man was out of sight that Frank finally relaxed, and allowed himself a satisfied smirk.

"Gotcha, you demented fuck. Hook, line and sinker."

He then hurried away from the library, dumping the tainted cash in a bin as he went.

* * *

Alex returned to her parents' home with Bobby, after getting the okay from Deakins to finish up work early. John and Helen had a get-together planned with some friends for later that afternoon, and into the evening, and none of them felt particularly comfortable with the idea of leaving Bobby alone. Bobby himself wasn't especially keen on being left alone, either, and that was markedly clear by the lack of any protests from him.

He retreated to the family room with his books as soon as they arrived home, and Alex flitted restlessly around the house until her parents finally left. Once they were gone, she headed to the family room and smiled at the sight of him sitting engrossed in one of the books he'd brought home from the library. If she wasn't mistaken, it was the Sherlock Holmes book that he had been reading when they arrived at the library with Frank.

A slight frown passed fleetingly across Alex's face at the mere thought of Bobby's older brother. She still did not trust him, and it troubled her that Bobby seemed to. After all that he'd been through, she would have expected him to be less quick to place his trust in a man who had tried to kill him when they last saw each other. Bobby seemed confident about Frank's motives, though, and in the end all Alex could do was hope that his trust was not misplaced.

She paused in the archway to the family room, observing Bobby with renewed love and affection. It astounded her how he could still radiate such utter innocence, despite the horrors he'd endured. Sensing her presence, Bobby looked up, and she suddenly found herself on the receiving end of the most beautiful smile she had ever seen. Her heart swelled, and she went over to join him on the sofa.

"You look happy," she remarked, eager to draw him into conversation.

"I feel happier," he confessed. "It… It's like I can see a light at the end of the tunnel now. I… We're not just sitting around anymore, waiting for them to make the first move."

"Is that what you wanted to do all along?" Alex wondered. "Take the fight to them?"

"It's not what I wanted to do. It… It's what I needed to do. I'm afraid of them, Alex. I'm more afraid of them than I've ever been of anything, and they know that. But because they know that, it's important to me that they also understand that I will still fight them. I… I'm scared, but I'm not beaten."

Alex couldn't help herself. His words had stirred her to her very core, and she desperately wanted to respond. Climbing up on her knees beside him, Alex gently drew his face around and kissed him tenderly on the mouth. At first, Bobby's eyes widened in surprise, but then they fluttered closed, and he leaned into the kiss.

The very air surrounding them became charged as they engaged in a prolonged kiss, and Alex thrilled at the feel of his left arm sliding around her body and pulling her across until she was settled comfortably on his lap.

"Please," Bobby murmured against her lips, "answer me one thing… and don't be offended."

Alex drew back slowly from him, and cupped his face between her palms. She looked into his brown eyes, and spoke softly to him.

"I am not doing this out of sympathy for you, Bobby. I do not feel sorry for you. I admire you… your courage… your strength… everything about you. I love you, Bobby. I…"

She had no opportunity to get anything else out. A moment later, Bobby pulled her back to him, and reclaimed her lips in a heated kiss.

"Love you too," he whispered, taking immense pleasure in her shiver of delight as he ran his fingertips lightly up and down her side, just barely skimming the swell of her breast. "Love you… so much…"

She moaned softly into his mouth as his tongue explored her thoroughly. Then, suddenly, he was pulling away from her and she found herself looking at him plaintively, not understanding what he'd done wrong. He smiled at her apologetically, anxious to let her know that his withdrawal from her was due to nothing she had or hadn't done.

"I'm sorry. I … I just don't think it's such a great idea to start something that I really don't think I'd be able to finish."

When she looked puzzled, he made a sweeping motion to indicate his torso. Then, she remembered the massive bruising, the cracked ribs and other physical torments he was still suffering, and she went bright red.

"Oh my god, Bobby, I'm sorry! I forgot!"

He reached up to push her hair back from her face, and then ran his fingertips along her jawline and over her lips.

"It's okay, Alex. I forgot too, for a moment there. You're the only one who could do that, you know. Make me forget everything like that." A faint sigh escaped him as he gaze up at her with a look that was pure adoration. "I promise you, Alex, when I'm healed up properly, I'm going to show you what it's like to be truly loved."

She responded to that with a smile that warmed him from the inside out.

"I already do, Bobby. I can see it right now in your eyes."

Bobby sighed again, and drew her in close, wrapping his good arm around her and pulling her into his embrace. She relaxed against him, resting her head against his left shoulder and slipping her arms around his body; content for the time being to just hold him, and be held by him.

They remained like that for a while, silent and content in each other's company.

"Uh… Alex…?"

She was drawn out of her reverie what could have been either minutes or hours later, pulled reluctantly back to reality by the questioning note in his voice.

"What is it?" she asked, and was amused to discover he was blushing.

"I… I was wondering if you could… I mean… I can't with your mom and dad… But you've already… I… Oh, damn…"

He was getting thoroughly tongue-tied, and more embarrassed by the second, Alex thought wryly. She wanted nothing more than to ease his discomfort, but she really had no idea what he was trying to ask her. Instead, she pressed one finger lightly to his lips, silencing his embarrassed stammering.

"Hush. Stop, take a breath."

He did so, and even as she watched, he visibly settled. Nodding, she removed her finger from his lips.

"All right. Now tell me what it is you want, baby."

For a fleeting moment, there was a look of sheer joy on his face at the endearment, and then he finally made himself speak.

"I… I'd really like to have a bath, but I can't manage it on my own. With just one arm, I'd probably slip and fall, and I don't want to take that chance. Could… could you help me?"

It was with some effort that Alex didn't laugh purely with delight that he was actually asking her directly for her help. Though it wouldn't have been intended, she knew that to laugh now would only hurt him, and embarrass him even further, and that was the last thing that she wanted. Instead, she leaned in and kissed him again before slipping off his lap.

"Of course I will."

She held out a hand to him, which he accepted gratefully and without hesitation. "C'mon, let's run you a bath."

* * *

A few minutes later found Bobby sitting on a chair in the bathroom, watching while Alex prepared the bath for him.

"You've done so much for me," he said softly. She heard his voice catch, and looked around in time to see tears spilling from his eyes.

"Hey," Alex murmured anxiously, turning off the bath taps and hurrying over to him. "Why the tears?"

He shook his head and rubbed furiously at his eyes.

"It… It just hit me… how important you are to me. I wouldn't be here now if it weren't for you, and I don't just mean everything to do with the Centre. Before that, you were there for me when no one else was. I should have told you a long time ago how much you really mean to me."

"Well, if it's any consolation," Alex murmured, "I think you're well and truly making up for it now."

She kissed him tenderly before encouraging him to stand up.

"Can you get undressed okay?" she asked, and he promptly turned that adorable shade of red once more.

"I… uh… Yes. It's just getting in and out of the bath." He paused, and then favoured her with a shy smile that all but melted her heart. "But, I don't mind if you help."

Alex chuckled softly, and willed herself to remember that she was helping him to take a bath, and nothing more. She helped him to remove the arm brace, and then his shirt, swallowing a sob at the sight of the bruising that still covered his upper body so completely. When he began to remove his jeans, though, she started to turn away.

Bobby hesitated, and then spoke softly.

"Alex, you've already seen me. Please don't turn away from me now."

Alex felt her throat constrict at his words, and she turned back to him slowly.

"I'm not doing that, Bobby. I… I just thought you might appreciate a little privacy. After all, that's not something you've had a lot of lately."

He actually looked puzzled at her words, she mused.

"But… you've already seen me," he said again, tentatively. "That first night… And when you put me in the bath after I… I had an accident…" His face was flame-red, but he continued on regardless. "And then, after I got away from Lyle…"

"You weren't exactly at your most alert," Alex pointed out, but she didn't try to turn away again.

"No," Bobby conceded. "But it doesn't change the fact that you've seen me at my most vulnerable and… and I trust you."

Although she could feel her own face heating up, Alex didn't look away again. She offered him a reassuring smile, and forced herself not to flinch or look down at the floor as he stripped off his jeans and boxers.

She helped him into the bath with tender care, and sat down on the edge of the tub and watched as he sank into the hot water with a relieved sigh.

"Better?" she queried, and he nodded contentedly.

"Yes. Thankyou. I don't remember when I really enjoyed taking a bath last, but it's been a long time."

Alex leaned across a little and gently brushed back a solitary curl.

"Your hair's getting long. We'll have to take you for a hair cut."

He smiled faintly, and reached up to catch her hand in his own.

"Thankyou, Alex. For everything."

"You're welcome."

* * *

Nearly an hour passed before Bobby finally allowed Alex to help him out of the water, dry off and get dressed again. It was only when he was fully clothed once more, with his right arm securely back in the restrictive brace, that Alex finally dared to ask what was on her mind.

"Bobby, I need to ask you something, and I want you to be honest with me about it."

He regarded her in puzzlement, but nodded his acquiescence.

"What is it?"

"Earlier, in the bathroom… when you were getting undressed… What was the real reason that you didn't want me to turn away from you?"

Bobby suddenly went very still, with his gaze fixed on the carpet. She wondered fleetingly whether she'd pushed him that one step too far, and then shoved that worry away. He'd said that he trusted her, and she did honestly believe that there was a reason beyond the superficial logic he'd offered. The question was, would he confide in her?

The next five mutes passed in complete silence, but Alex bided her time, giving him all the time he needed to work through it in his own mind.

"She… She raped me," he said suddenly, after what felt to Alex like the longest silence she had ever endured.

"Brigitte, you mean?" she asked, fighting the urge to pull a face at the hated name. Bobby nodded, still not looking up at her.

"Yes. At… At a point where I didn't think things could get any worse, she made it worse. And afterwards, I couldn't do anything to stop from feeling like I was… was…"

"Damaged goods?" Alex put in softly, her heart breaking for him all over again. He nodded quickly.

"She… She made me ashamed of my own body. After what she did to me, I couldn't bear stripping off in front of anyone, not for any reason. Not… not even for a medical check. In the end, every time they wanted me to strip off for anything, they brought in a team of cleaners, and they'd hold me down and forcibly strip me. It… Every time that happened, it was like I was being raped all over again."

Alex pressed her fist to her mouth, struggling not to cry. She wanted nothing more than to wrap her arms around him, but something stopped her, and a deeper instinct whispered that she needed to hang back, and let him work through it in his own time, and in his own words. And so she waited, and listened, all the while fighting to keep a hold on her own emotions.

"The… the story of what Brigitte did got around," he told her in a trembling voice. "Whenever they'd strip me, whoever was there… They'd laugh at me, and mock me. And some of them would get this disgusted look on their faces, and turn away from me. I… I couldn't stop from thinking that there was something wrong with me."

Alex's stomach was churning unpleasantly.

"And when I turned away from you, that just reinforced it. I am so sorry, Bobby."

He looked up at her finally with red-rimmed eyes.

"I… I thought that if… if you could at least look at me without laughing… or having to turn away… then maybe the damage isn't permanent."

That was all she could take, and Alex slid across the sofa, closing the distance between them and slipping her arms around him in a warm, protective embrace.

"None of what they did to you is permanent, Bobby, and damaged goods is the last thing that I'd call you. Listen to me, baby. I didn't turn away from you in there because I couldn't bear to look at you. I turned away because there was more on my mind that just giving you a bath, and I know you're not ready for that… yet."

Bobby couldn't help it. The absurdity of it suddenly struck him, and he snorted with laughter.

"I… I was worried about whether I was d… damaged goods in your eyes… and you were just thinking about… about _sex_?"

Alex felt herself flush red, but she made no attempt to pull away from him.

"Great pair, aren't we?" she retorted, and he laughed softly and kissed her hair lovingly.

"Uh huh."

"Listen to me, though. You're not damaged goods, Bobby. Far from it. Do you think you'll eventually be able to accept that?"

He was silent for a minute as he considered that, before slowly nodding.

"I think so. With… with your help, I will. Thankyou, Alex."

She sighed with relief and contentment, and snuggled in against him.

"You're welcome."

* * *

Bobby and Frank met on a Tuesday afternoon, and had planned to meet again on Saturday, leaving three short days in between to make a plan of attack. Deakins didn't waste a moment, and first thing on Wednesday morning, he summoned all Major Case detectives to his home for a confidential meeting away from potential prying eyes and ears. To that meeting he also called Olivia Benson, Elliot Stabler, Fin Tutuola and John Munch, keeping in mind the held that they had so selflessly given during the original rescue. He wasn't particularly surprised, either, when Don Cragen showed up right along with his detectives.

Within minutes everyone had gathered together, waiting to hear what Deakins had to say.

"Firstly," Deakins said to the gathered group, "I want to make it absolutely clear to everyone that what we're about to discuss is not a sanctioned police operation. The only backup we'll get is right here in this room. We are not officially cops for this, and if anyone has a problem with that, then they need to get up and leave right now, before I go any further."

No one moved; not even Cragen.

"All right, then," Deakins murmured, relieved. "This is the situation. The people who took Bobby Goren and held him for nine months are still after him. Some of you will be aware that yesterday his brother was intercepted at One Police Plaza, and that we uncovered a plan by the Centre to use Frank Goren to lure Bobby out into the open. Frank met with Bobby yesterday afternoon under our strict control, and as result he's turned against the Centre and has agreed to help us."

"Help us do what?" Munch asked, although he strongly suspected that he already knew.

"Help us to end the threat against Bobby once and for all," Deakins answered firmly. "We know for a fact that one of the men primarily responsible for Bobby's ordeal is here in New York right now, and we've been assured that our other prime target will be here by Saturday. We're relying on their desperation to get Bobby back to draw _them_ out into the open, where we can deal with them."

"Targets…?" Cragen asked in concern. "Jim, just what are you planning to do, exactly?"

"I told you," Deakins said tightly, "we're going to put and end to this once and for all. We're going to turn the tables on Lyle and Raines, and draw them out into the open."

"And then…?" Cragen asked, suddenly unsure of the wisdom of involving himself. The grim smile that crept across Deakins' face right at the moment sent chills down the SVU captain's spine.

"And then, Don, we're going to kill them."

* * *

_tbc..._


	37. The Path Ahead

A/N: _Short, but intense. I'll say no more..._

* * *

Deakins walked back through his front door that evening feeling utterly exhausted. He had spent the entire day maintaining a delicate balancing act between planning Saturday's action, and running the squad as normal. By the time the day was over, he'd found himself wondering whether retirement wasn't that far off. God knew he was exhausted, and the Centre business was only partly responsible for it.

He paused in removing his jacket. If he was completely honest with himself, he knew the reason for his mental exhaustion, and it centred entirely on the decision he'd made to kill Lyle and Raines. It would have been a lie to say he didn't feel uneasy about it, but the desire to end it once and for all and ensure Bobby's safety was a powerful motivator.

"Jimmy?"

He looked around as his wife approached. He tried to smile, but couldn't quite manage it. She came up to him and slipped her arms around his waist.

"Honey, what's the matter? I haven't seen you look this worried since before you went off to rescue Bobby."

He took her hand, and led her into the family room, and sat her down.

"We made some decisions today…. Decisions that I hope will keep Bobby safe permanently."

Angie regarded him in quiet concern.

"What decision, Jimmy?"

He drew in an unsteady breath.

"We're going to take them out, Angie. Lyle _and_ Raines."

It didn't take her long to realise what he meant, and the shock in her expression was palpable.

"You're going to… kill them…? Oh, Jimmy, no…"

"It's the only way," he insisted softly. "Bobby is never going to be safe while either of them is alive."

"But Jimmy, what you're talking about is premeditated murder! You could go to prison! All it would take is just one person to say the wrong thing at the wrong time…"

"Everyone involved is of the same mind," Deakins told her. "And they all know the importance of keeping this under wraps. Our prime objective is to keep Bobby safe, Angie, and we can't guarantee that with Lyle and Raines chasing after him. This is what we have to do. It's just the way it has to be."

She stared at him, tears just visible in her eyes as she realised that the course had already been set, and that he was not going to be dissuaded.

"Just tell me one thing, Jimmy. You've lived your life operating under the belief that there is no justification for taking a life. If you go ahead and do this now, will you be able to live with yourself?"

He paused before answering, if only to show her that he was thinking it through thoroughly. He knew that she would not accept anything less than a carefully considered response.

"If it achieves what we want it to achieve, and guarantees safety for Bobby? Then yes. I can live with that. But what about you, Angie? Can you live with it? More importantly, can you live with me?"

Distress filled her face at his questions.

"Jimmy, I love you, and I do understand that you want Bobby to be safe. So do I! But this is murder that we're talking about! I agree that what they did to Bobby was awful, but can you really justify killing two people over it? Surely there must be another way…"

Deakins stared at her for so long that she started to feel painfully uncomfortable. When he finally spoke, there was a deep sadness in his voice.

"I'm sorry, Angie. I wanted to shield you from it, but maybe that was the wrong decision on my part. Maybe you do need to see it for yourself."

"See what?" she asked uneasily. "Shield me from what?"

"The truth about what was done to Bobby," he replied. "He wasn't just spirited away and locked up for nine months. That would have been bad enough if that was all that had happened, but it wasn't all. They nearly broke him, Angie. He was in such a shocking state when we found him…"

He paused, shuddering visibly at the memory, before getting up and walking over to the wall cabinet. Unlocking the top drawer, he withdrew a single silver disc.

"Jimmy? What is that?"

"It's a sim disc, Angie. A simulation disc, to be exact. There are over two hundred of these altogether, and each one holds footage of some trial or test that Bobby was subjected to."

Angie watched in trepidation as her husband fed the disc into their DVD player. He paused before switching it on, looking back to find that she'd risen to her feet.

"You're going to want to sit down for this."

She did so without argument, suddenly acutely afraid of what she was about to see. Deakins hit play, and then stepped back to give her a clear view. There was a moment of static, and then the screen cleared to reveal a disturbing sight.

Bobby was sitting on the floor in the middle of a large, brightly-lit room with his knees drawn up to his chest, and he was rocking back and forth. Soft, distressed whimpers and other unintelligible sounds could heard coming from his lips.

"Dear God, he looks starved," Angie whispered in dismay as she took in his skeletal features.

"He was starved," Deakins confirmed. Angie looked back to the screen, only to gasp in horror a moment later as a new realisation struck.

"Jimmy! He's got no clothes on!"

"I know," Deakins said quietly. "It was one of many methods they used to torment him. Just watch, Angie."

She fell silent again, watching in growing horror as the scene unfolded before her.

* * *

_He sat huddled, struggling to keep his fear under control. The more he let it take hold, the more he made unwanted sounds; and the more he made those sounds, the more likely he was to suffer for it. All the same, he could not prevent the soft whimpers that escaped him._

_Nearly two hours ago, he'd been hauled from the safety of the little room on SL26, brought to this room and forcibly stripped naked. Then, the cleaners had left him alone. Except, he knew he was not really alone. Somewhere in the room, there were cameras, and that meant that somewhere, someone was watching him. Someone was always watching him._

_He tried to huddle up even more tightly, and buried his pale, bruised face in his bare arms. He'd long given up trying to make any sense of Raines' plans. All he knew was that every time he was taken out of his room, it meant more pain than he could reasonably bear – both physical and emotional._

"_Comfortable there, Bobby?"_

_He went rigid at the unwelcome voice that broke the silence. A moment later, Lyle walked into the room and came over to stand beside Bobby's huddled form. _

"_Not too cold, are you? We could always turn the heating up if you are, buddy."_

"_Please," Bobby whispered. "Let me get dressed."_

_He hated having to plead, but his anguish at being so exposed and so vulnerable overrode whatever pride he still had. _

"_Sorry, pal," Lyle answered, sounding not the least bit sorry. "No can do. But I'll tell you what I can do. I can bring you something to eat and drink, if you want. How about it? You hungry?"_

_A shiver passed through Bobby, and he risked looking up at Lyle. _

"_Wh… What do I have to do?"_

"_Nothing huge," Lyle answered. He dropped into a crouch beside Bobby, so that he could look him in the eye. "Just quit fucking around, and do what Mr Raines tells you to do. Think you can do that, Bobby?"_

_Bobby looked away from Lyle. His pride and self-respect had been stripped away, and he'd been reduced to a mere plaything in the eyes of those around him, but he still had one means of fighting left to him, and that was his steadfast refusal to cooperate. He suffered grievously for it, but it was all that he had, and so he took it and held onto that with all that he had._

"_G… Go fuck yourself," he whispered, just loud enough to be heard. Lyle nodded placidly, unsurprised by Bobby's response._

"_I thought that might be your reaction, so I brought along a little something to put you in a more cooperative frame of mind."_

_Bobby started to look up at Lyle, just in time to suffer a fist to the head that sent him reeling to the floor. An instant later, the two cleaners who had entered the room behind Lyle were on him, pinning him to the floor and holding him there. Bobby struggled, but he was no match for the strength of two healthy, well-fed men._

_And then Lyle was crouching over him, syringe in hand. While one of the cleaners held Bobby's head to the floor, Lyle injected the contents of the syringe into Bobby's neck._

"_There we go," Lyle murmured. "That'll help things along."_

"_Wh… What did you just give me?" Bobby asked as the cleaners released him and quickly backed off. _

_"Just something to loosen you up a little," Lyle answered calmly. "Go with it, Bobby, and you won't have such a rough ride this time." _

* * *

"_**This time**_?" Angie echoed in dismay. "They drugged him like this more than once?"

"A number of times," Deakins confirmed. "They used him regularly to experiment on with new drugs. In this instance, we think he was given a psychotropic drug."

"A mind altering drug?"

"Watch, Angie. See how much regard they really had for him."

* * *

_Then he was alone again. Terrified, not knowing what effects the drug might have on him, Bobby crawled over to the far corner of the room, curling into as tight a ball as he could and trying to will himself to sleep. It was a pointless effort. Before long, he began to experience unpleasant effects such as nausea, light-headedness and vertigo. He kept his eyes shut tight, but it did nothing to ease the sensation of spinning._

_His stomach suddenly heaved, and he threw up violently, although what he brought up was little more than water. Bobby groaned and collapsed fully to the floor. He wanted to fight, but he was tired, weak and hungry. His defences were about as low as they could be, and he simply had nothing left with which to resist._

* * *

Angie Deakins continued to watch in horrified silence as Bobby descended into a state of drug-induced madness. He began to babble incoherently, and at times cried out and swatted weakly at torments that were not really there.

"Jimmy, please," Angie whispered, feeling sick to her stomach. "Turn it off."

"Not yet," he said softly. "There's one more thing I want you to see. Then you'll understand why we have no choice. You'll understand why we have to take out Lyle and Raines."

Angie stared at him for a long moment before returning her gaze to the television with reluctance. A moment later, a new figure entered the room, dragging an oxygen tank along with him.

"That's Raines," Deakins explained, a vehemence in his voice that Angie had rarely heard. "Evil, psychotic bastard…"

Angie glanced worriedly at her husband before returning her attention to the scene unfolding before her.

* * *

"_Hello, Bobby. How are you feeling today?"_

_Bobby, who by that time had somehow managed to work himself back up into a sitting position, stared blankly at Raines. Raines regarded him with more than casual interest. _

"_Do you know who I am, Bobby?"_

_Bobby didn't answer. His lips moved, but no sound emerged. His eyes were wide and wild, and his breath came in hitching gasps. Raines nodded._

"_Good," he practically purred. "Very good."_

_Setting the oxygen tank carefully on its end, Raines crouched down in front of his distressed captive and spoke in a falsely soothing tone._

"_Don't you remember, Bobby? I'm Dr Shimo."_

_Bobby blinked, confusion flickering in his eyes. _

"_D… Dr Sh…"_

"_Shimo," Raines said in a low, almost seductive tone. "Remember? I've been looking after your mother, Bobby."_

_Slowly, Bobby looked around._

"_Wh… Where… Where am I…?" he whispered hoarsely._

"_You're in Carmel Ridge. You've been here for a while now. Don't you remember?"_

_The confusion on Bobby's face increased._

"_I… I don't…"_

"_You suffered an extended psychotic break, Bobby. You've been here for five months now."_

_And then there was fear, mixed with the confusion. _

"_A… Alex… I w… want to s… see Alex…"_

"_I'm afraid that's not possible."_

"_Please," Bobby whispered. "Please let me see her…"_

"_I can't do that, Bobby. Don't you remember?"_

_Bobby looked up at Raines, his eyes lit up with growing panic._

"_Wh… What? Remember what? What did I do?"_

"_You snapped in the middle of an interrogation, and attacked her. She's dead, Bobby. You killed her."_

_Bobby seemed to shrink in on himself at the terrible words. _

"_No… No… I wouldn't… I didn't…"_

"_I'm sorry, Bobby," Raines said, and though his tone seemed kind, there was nothing kind or caring about the glee on his face as he watched Bobby fold under the weight of horror and despair. _

"_My… mom…" he whispered, and Raines shook his head._

"_She doesn't want to see you. She's ashamed of you. She's always been ashamed of you. You've had no visitors the entire time that you've been here. No one wants anything to do with you now."_

_Raines stood up, and took hold of the oxygen tank once more. He looked down at the distraught man at his feet with an expression that was pure evil delight._

"_I'm all you've got now, Bobby. I'm all you've got. There's no one else. There'll never be anyone else again. Never."_

* * *

"Oh my god," Angie whispered. "Jimmy, for God's sake, turn it off…"

He did, finally, and went over to sit next to her.

"Now do you understand? Do you understand why we have to act?"

The tears came in a rush, and she crumpled against him, sobbing heavily.

"How could they? How could they treat him like that?"

"They're evil, Angie. They're purely, utterly evil. We have to stop them, and if that means committing murder to do it, then that's what I'll do. Please tell me you understand now?"

She looked up at him miserably.

"I understand, Jimmy. I still can't say that I like it…"

"I don't like it either," he assured her. "But given the alternative, where Bobby has to watch over his shoulder for the rest of his life? It's a choice that I know I'll be able to live with."

She shuddered against him, struggling against the threat of tears.

"He looked like he'd been beaten," she whispered, and Deakins nodded.

"He had been. They beat him on a regular basis, particularly when he refused to cooperate. His right shoulder is going to need surgery, because they dislocated it and wrenched it so many times. They starved him, like you saw, and locked him away for hours at a time… They treated him worse than anything I've ever seen in my life. When we found him in that place… I wanted to cry when I saw him, Angie. He didn't even recognise me to start with, they'd screwed with his head so badly.

"I didn't know it was that bad," Angie murmured. "Even after what you told me and the girls, I didn't understand how bad it really was."

"But you do now?" Deakins asked, and she nodded.

"Yes, now I do. Jimmy, how is Bobby now? I haven't seen him since you came home."

"He's improving," he answered her. "It's a slow process, but considering the state he was in when we first got him out of there… He is definitely improving. Of course, a lot of that is thanks to Alex's parents. They've taken him in, and treated him like he was their own. It's what he needed more than anything, to have parent figures that he trusts, to look after him."

"Will he be able to go back to work?" Angie wondered, and Deakins hesitated at that.

"I want him to," he said quietly. "I really do… but right now, I don't know. They did so much damage to him, physically, mentally _and_ emotionally… I just don't know."

"Do what you have to do," she whispered, hugging him fiercely. "You do what you have to do to keep Bobby safe from those monsters."

Deakins nodded, relieved to finally have his wife's understanding.

"We intend to."

* * *

_Friday afternoon_

Mike found Alex in one of the task rooms, standing at the window and staring out at the city in absolute silence. She'd been distracted and short-tempered all week, ever since Bobby's meeting with Frank at the library. Not that he could blame her, he supposed. He was feeling much the same way. He stood in the doorway for a few minutes, contemplating whether to interrupt her, when she suddenly turned and saw him.

"What's wrong?"

He walked all the way in, and joined her at the window.

"I was about to risk asking you that. Are you okay?"

She turned back to the window, arms folded tightly across her chest.

"I'm scared," she admitted softly. "What if something goes wrong tomorrow? What if they manage to out-manoeuvre us? I couldn't bear to lose him again, Mike."

"We're not going to," he murmured reassuringly, slipping an arm around her shoulders and hugging her to him. "We're going to do what we have to, and when it's over, Bobby's going to be free from those assholes once and for all."

She shuddered against him.

"I wish I had your confidence."

"You really think it's a mistake, don't you?" Mike wondered.

"Honestly?" she answered soberly. "Yes, Mike. I think it's a big mistake. Don't get me wrong, I understand where Bobby's coming from over this, but it terrifies me to know he's putting himself at risk."

"He'll have back-up, Alex. It'll be just like any sting we've done in the past…"

A grunt of surprise escaped him as she suddenly whirled around and thumped him hard in the chest.

"No, it will not! Don't say that, because it's nothing like it! He's using himself as bait to trap people who are specifically out to get him! That is not the same, and don't try to make out like it is!"

Mike sighed and hugged her again. She resisted briefly before finally giving in and slumping against him.

"It's gonna be okay, Alex," he murmured softly. "You'll see. This time tomorrow, Bobby's going to be free of those scumbags, for good."

"Why can't I believe that?" she whispered, her voice muffled by his jacket.

"You will," Mike assured her. "It's all going to be okay. Trust me."

She hoped he was right, but despite his certainty, nothing would quell the fear and doubt that was steadily rising inside of her.

* * *

Alex arrived back at her parents' home that evening to find them in the family room with Bobby, all three of them helping themselves to an array of Thai take-out. Bobby, she noted with some small pleasure, actually looked as though he'd eaten a decent amount for once. That in itself was a huge change from when, not so long ago, they'd been lucky if they could get him to eat much more than a slice of toast, or a piece of fruit.

"Hey, sweetie," John greeted her. "Come and grab a plate. We ordered plenty."

"Thanks," Alex murmured as she sat down on the sofa beside Bobby. "I think I'll pass. I'm not really hungry."

Bobby looked sideways at her, concern creasing his brow.

"Are you okay?"

_No!_ she wanted to scream at him. _No, she was not okay! _

"I'm fine," she mumbled, and with her eyes fixed on the floor, she missed the looks exchanged between Bobby and her parents.

She heard the sound of movement, and when she looked up again, she was startled to discover that her parents had both exited the room, leaving her alone with Bobby. Looking up at him, she was taken aback by the renewed confidence in his eyes. As little as she liked the idea of him acting as live bait to trap Lyle and Raines, she could not deny that making the decision to take action against the Centre had clearly given him a fresh sense of purpose.

"You don't want me to do this tomorrow, do you?" he asked quietly. Alex tried to look away, but he refused to let her.

"No," she admitted finally, unhappily. "I don't. I think you're walking into trouble, Bobby."

"I know I am," he admitted.

"Then why?" she burst out. "Why take such a huge risk?"

"Because I have to stand up to them sooner or later," he said simply. "I'd rather it be sooner than later."

"These aren't a bunch of schoolyard bullies that we're talking about here," Alex argued. "They're dangerous, Bobby! What if they manage to take you again?"

"They won't," Bobby assured her, but she was not convinced.

"How can you know that?"

A small smile touched his lips, and lit up his eyes.

"Because I trust you."

His simple declaration of trust only served to bring fresh tears to her eyes, and she made no protest when he pulled her close.

"I trust you, Alex. But now, I need you to trust me. I have to do this. I need you to understand that."

"I do," she insisted. "But that doesn't mean I have to like it, does it?"

He smiled in wry amusement at her slightly petulant tone.

"No," he conceded. "I guess not. Just promise me you'll be there tomorrow, along with everyone else? Because I don't know that I could go through with it if you weren't…"

Alex sighed softly, and slipped her arms around his torso, hugging him very gently while at the same time keeping mindful of his slowly healing injuries. She'd already resigned herself to the fact that he was not going to let himself be talked out of it.

"Of course I'll be there. Wild horses couldn't keep me away. I won't let them hurt you again, Bobby. Never again. Part of me hopes I'll get to pull the trigger on Raines and Lyle myself. I _want_ to kill them for everything they've done to you."

His hold on her tightened just fractionally.

"I want them dead," he confessed, "but I don't want you to be the one who does it. I… I don't want you living with knowing you committed murder."

"It's not murder, Bobby," she told him softly. "Don't look at it that way, because it's not. It's self-defence. I'm defending my partner. You're in danger from those bastards, and I'm taking appropriate measures to defend you. It's not murder. It'd be murder if they show up there tomorrow with no guns, and we both know _that's_ not going to happen. We all want this to be over, and we all know this is the only way it's ever going to be over. I want you to be safe, and if putting bullets in their heads is the only way to achieve that, then I say bring it on."

Bobby sighed and pressed his lips gently to her hair, then her cheek, and finally found her lips.

"Thankyou," he whispered. "I love you, you know."

Alex nestled in comfortably against him, resting her head on his shoulder.

"I know. I love you, too. Just promise me that you won't take any unnecessary chances tomorrow?"

"I won't," he promised. "Scout's honour."

She raised her eyes to him, bemused.

"You were never a Scout, Goren."

He grinned down at her, then.

"No, I'm sure I was… at least once."

She froze, staring up at him incredulously, taking in the widening grin on his face before swatting him lightly on the arm. At the same time, though. she was filled with relief that he was actually able to make a joke about his experiences in the Centre.

"Jerk. That's not funny."

But she couldn't keep from grinning, and a moment later they were both laughing softly.

"It's going to be okay, Alex," he murmured. "You'll see."

"You'd better be right," she threatened lightly.

He smiled softly at her, feeling a fresh wave of a confidence fill him.

"I know I am."

* * *

_tbc..._


	38. Confronting His Demons

Bobby was awake long before dawn on Saturday morning, dragged unceremoniously from sleep by yet another terrifying nightmare. For nearly twenty minutes he lay frozen in bed, heart pounding and breath coming in panicked gasps as he struggled to regain his equilibrium. It was only when he began to calm down and was able to move again that the nausea suddenly hit, and he had to bolt for the bathroom.

* * *

He was still slumped on the floor by the toilet bowl ten minutes later when he felt a familiar, reassuring touch on his back, through the soft flannel of pyjamas that really were too warm for him. Then, a dampened washcloth came into his line of sight and gently wiped his mouth clean.

"It's okay," Alex murmured, rubbing his back soothingly. "You're okay. It was just a bad dream."

Finally, he found the strength to push away from the toilet and get unsteadily to his feet. When Alex started to usher him back to his bedroom, though, he resisted.

"No… Please… Can we go downstairs?"

She was puzzled, but conceded without argument. Holding his arm more to give him a little bit of stability than anything else, Alex guided him down the stairs and into the family room. As Bobby sank down onto the sofa, Alex collected a glass of juice from the kitchen for him, along with a spare blanket from the hall closet.

"Here," she murmured, handing him the glass and then sitting beside him and draping the blanket over them both. He took a few sips, and then set the glass aside on the little table beside the sofa. Alex then settled in against him, slipping her arms protectively around his waist.

He was unsettled, and she could feel the tremors rippling through his body like aftershocks. It didn't seem that he was going to initiate any conversation himself, so she decided to try.

"Who was it about?" she asked softly. "Lyle, Raines or Sydney?"

He didn't respond straight away, but that didn't concern her so much. She was used to him taking his time to respond to her questions. When he did, though, the answer was not what she had expected it to be.

"Y… You. It was about you."

Alex blinked in surprise, not sure what to say.

"Me?"

He glanced briefly at her, and then back to some undefined spot on the opposite wall.

"I… I was in the sim room, and Sydney was there. He told me I had to cooperate, or something terrible would happen. I kept saying no… I tried to reason with him, and explain why they couldn't keep me there against my will. But then Lyle walked in… and he had you."

Alex felt her stomach roll at the thought of being in the hands of that monster, but she held her tongue and waited for him to finish. He went on in a soft, trembling voice.

"Lyle said that here was a reason to cooperate, and that if I didn't he… he was going to kill you. You were begging me to save you… so I did the only thing I could. I did the sim. Then… when I was finished, I told Lyle to let you go, but he just laughed. He laughed, and then he broke your neck. He… He killed you, and he said it was my fault because I forced them to take those measures."

He dissolved into tears, and Alex tightened her grip on his waist slightly. She was no profiler, nor did she have the insight into the human psyche that Bobby did, but she had no trouble understanding that Bobby's nightmare was a direct result of his fears for her safety in the actions they were to take against the Centre that very day.

"You're not going to lose me, Bobby. Not today or any other day, and especially not to those sons of bitches. Do you hear me? We've just found each other. You're not getting rid of me that easily."

Somehow, his arms found their way around her body, and she suddenly found herself wrapped up completely in his embrace.

"Do you not want me to be there today after all?" she wondered. His reply was muffled from having his face buried in her hair, and it took her a moment to understand.

"I need you to be there. It… It was just a nightmare. But today… if you're there, I know they won't be able to take me again. I know you'll stop them."

His simple declaration of faith brought tears to her eyes, and she hugged him all the more fiercely.

"They'll never get that chance, Bobby. I promise you."

* * *

John arose a few hours later and came out to find Bobby and Alex still on the sofa together. Alex seemed to sleeping, if somewhat restlessly, but Bobby was wide awake. He glanced up as John walked around and sat down opposite them. John paused before speaking, observing the way Alex was cuddled in against Bobby, and how Bobby's good arm held her to him protectively – almost possessively. Like he was terrified that she'd disappear if he let her go, John mused sadly. How long, he wondered, before Bobby was able to accept that his friends were not going to vanish the moment he turned his back?

"Did you get any sleep at all?" he asked quietly.

"A few hours," Bobby answered and, despite keeping his voice low, Alex still stirred and opened her eyes.

"Good morning," John greeted her bemusedly. Alex groaned and tried to push herself up.

"Please tell me you've made coffee."

John chuckled, then.

"I've got a pot brewing. It shouldn't take long."

"Mm, great. What time is it?"

John glanced briefly at the clock, even though he already knew.

"It's just on eight-thirty. Why don't you two have some coffee, and then go shower? Captain Deakins will be here around in a couple of hours to go over everything."

Bobby looked sideways at Alex, who nodded her agreement, her growing nerves soothed slightly at the thought of a hot shower and hot, fresh coffee – not necessarily in that order.

"Sounds like a plan. Thanks, Dad."

* * *

Deakins arrived at the Eames household just after ten, and Mike and Carolyn arrived soon after. The rest of the squad was already in place, Deakins informed them, and had been since just after five that morning. They had left nothing to chance, including making sure their people were in place before anyone from the Centre arrived on the scene.

"So how is this going to work?" John asked with a slight frown. He wasn't particularly happy with the plan, and he feared it was putting Bobby too much at risk. At the same time, though, he understood Bobby's need for closure, and the need to put an end to the threat against him, once and for all. It was for that reason alone that he had kept his objections to himself.

"Bobby will head to the café at the designated time, to meet Frank," Deakins explained. "The location was apparently chosen by Lyle, so we expect any workers… and probably all the customers as well… to be Centre operatives. We have people whose specific aim is to deal with them. Now, Bobby will be equipped with a microphone, so we'll be able to hear what's happening. We won't be taking any chances, I promise you. As soon as Lyle and Raines appear, we'll make our move."

"You say you're not taking any chances," John said worriedly, "but really, you are. Are you really sure it's a risk you're willing to take? This is Bobby's life we're talking about here…"

"It's the only way," Bobby spoke up. "I… I can't live my life always looking over my shoulder. I want this to end. Now. Today."

There was a determination in his tone that they were all certain was only bravado on Bobby's part. None of them were going to disrespect that, though. They all knew how hard it had to be for him to be willingly offering himself as bait – regardless of how much back-up they were giving him. There was always the chance for that one mistake that could send everything spinning horribly out of control.

"Do you need us?" Helen asked, anxious and yet eager at the same time. "Can we help in some way?"

Even as Alex was opening her mouth to voice a response to that, Deakins spoke quickly.

"Actually, there is something you can do. You can drive Bobby to the meeting place, and then get yourselves right out of the way until it's over. All right?"

John nodded in agreement, knowing that it was the best they could hope for.

"Okay. We can do that."

Deakins looked across at Bobby, taking in his too pale features and tired eyes with sympathy.

"Bobby, why don't you try to get a couple of hours shut eye? Don't take this the wrong way, but you look exhausted."

"I don't think I could sleep, even if I wanted to," Bobby admitted, and they could all see the truth in that statement. He was far too wound up to be able to relax at all.

An uneasy silence fell, broken only when John spoke up.

"Liz Bauer called this morning. They've scheduled the surgery on Bobby's shoulder for next week, on Thursday morning."

"That's good news," Deakins agreed. "Did she give any idea of what the recovery time might be?"

"They won't know until they complete the surgery," John replied, "but she seemed fairly positive about the outlook."

"That's good news in itself," Alex pointed out. "Liz Bauer isn't exactly an optimist by nature. She doesn't believe in giving false hope. If she thinks Bobby is going to make a good recovery, then it's a fair bet that he will."

"Bobby?" Carolyn asked, noting how quiet Bobby had gone. "What are you thinking about?"

He initially didn't answer but, like Alex, none of them grew impatient with him. A minute or so later, he did finally answer.

"I was certain before now, whether I really wanted my job back. I mean, I did… but only because it was something they tried to take from me. But I didn't really know if it was something I wanted in myself… for myself. I didn't know whether I'd feel like I was still capable of doing it."

"And what about now?" Mike asked. Bobby let his breath out in a rush.

"I want to be a cop again," he said in a soft but firm voice. "It's who I am… part of my identity. They never really took that from me. I just managed to forget it for a while there. But… I'm a cop… and I want that back."

A grin lit up Deakins' face as Bobby spoke, quietly delighting in the way that Bobby was making a deliberate effort to look each of them in the eye as he spoke. His confidence was returning, slowly but surely.

"I've been waiting to hear you say that, Bobby. I think you're ready to have this back."

Bobby looked up, puzzled, as Deakins pulled something from within his jacket, and held it out to the younger man. Bobby accepted the item, and his jaw dropped in astonishment as he found himself staring at his detective's shield.

"I… I thought they destroyed this," he whispered. "They told me they destroyed it…"

"They left it behind when they took you from the Chief of Detectives' office," Deakins told him. "I've been keeping it safe for you, until you were ready to take up your place with the squad again. Your gun is in the lock box in my office, and you'll get that back when you're ready for it, too. And after today, perhaps you can start back at work on light desk duty, if you feel up to it. Okay?"

Bobby nodded, his entire countenance lighting up with fresh hope as he clutched the shield tightly in his free hand.

"Okay."

* * *

At eleven on the dot, Alex and the captain headed off to go on ahead to the café where Bobby and Frank were to meet, and where Lyle and Raines thought they were going to spring their trap. An hour later, John, Helen and Bobby headed out as well.

As they'd agreed, Mike and Carolyn followed them to ensure that nothing happened en route. As Mike had reminded them all, Lyle and Raines would not be above staging an ambush before Bobby even reached the café. The trip into the city was uneventful, though, and soon they'd reached the café.

"Are you sure you want to go in there alone?" John asked worriedly, and Bobby paused in getting out of the car.

"I'm not alone, though. Alex… and Captain Deakins… and all of the squad are here. I'm not alone."

John nodded in acquiescence. It was the response he'd expected, and in all honesty he didn't know what he could possibly have done to help the situation even if Bobby had expressed a wish for them to go in with him. Given what they expected to have happen, John guessed that his and Helen's presence would only create a very big problem for Bobby's supporters.

"Okay. We're going to pull up just further down the street. We won't be far away. All right?"

Bobby nodded, gratitude visible in his brown eyes.

"Thankyou."

"Everything's going to work out just fine, sweetheart," Helen assured him, and he smiled faintly in response as he thought of Alex, Captain Deakins and the others all waiting, ready to defend him against his enemies.

"I know it will."

* * *

The very first thing he noted as he entered the café was the absolute lack of interest in him from the other patrons. It was human nature to display some degree of curiosity, even if it came in the form of a simple glance. That not one of them so much as looked in his direction told him beyond a doubt that they were all sweepers from the Centre.

The mere thought of it gave him chills, and he had to make a conscious effort to control his fear.

Nine so-called patrons in all, he mused as he headed slowly to the table where his brother was already seated. Two staff members were visible, and there were probably more out back…

He barely withheld a smirk. He was sincerely looking forward to seeing the look on Lyle's face when they sprung their own trap. With that sense of amusement, though, there was a deeper sense of fear that he struggled to control, and which tempered any enthusiasm he might otherwise have had. Despite his bravado, he was starkly afraid. If something… _anything_ went wrong, the consequences would be devastating. Not only were there lives at risk, but at the very bottom line was the terrifying knowledge that he could end up back in the Centre's control.

The thought was nauseating, and he made a silent vow that he would take his own life before allowing that to happen again.

"Hey, Bobby," Frank greeted him as he walked over and sat down. "Hope you're hungry. This place serves up the biggest damn plates of pasta. Seriously, they're huge, man."

"I may need a doggy bag, then," Bobby murmured, making a cursory show of looking over the menu before setting it aside. Frank raised an eyebrow at him.

"What's the matter? Not hungry?"

"Not especially. Listen, can we skip lunch, and just head straight out to see Mom? I really don't have much of an appetite."

True to their plan, Frank spoke as though he was trying to convince Bobby to stay.

"C'mon, Bobby, you might not be hungry, but I am. D'you mind if I at least get something to eat?"

Bobby hesitated, shifting uncomfortably before sighing in apparent concession.

"Okay, Frank. Fine."

"Great. Hey, did you let Mom know we're coming?"

"She's expecting me," Bobby answered quietly. "I didn't tell her you were coming, though."

"Oh… You're saying you want to surprise her?"

"Yeah," Bobby murmured, while inwardly thinking, _more like, didn't want to disappoint her if you decided to bail again._

Silence fell between the two brothers, and Bobby noticed Frank glancing up regularly to look beyond Bobby, giving the distinct impression that he was waiting for someone. Bobby gave it nearly five minutes before speaking tersely, in an effort to provoke Lyle and Raines into acting.

"Frank, I think it's time to go."

"But…"

"No. We can stop somewhere on the way to Carmel Ridge, if you're really hungry. I… I want to get out of here. Now."

And then, Frank's expression changed and Bobby knew his tormentors had arrived.

A hand descended onto his injured shoulder and squeezed, drawing a choked sob of pain from him.

"You're not going to leave yet, Bobby," Lyle said as he walked around and sat down beside Bobby. "That would just be rude."

Bobby's breath caught in his throat as his gaze came to rest on Lyle and, despite nearly a week of trying to prepare himself, he couldn't suppress the very real fear that lit up his eyes. Lyle saw it, and a cruel delight practically radiated off him.

"Now, last time we saw each other, you left me for dead, Bobby. That wasn't very courteous on your part. The car could have blown up with me in it."

"Pity it didn't," Bobby said, and it wasn't hard to generate a believable amount of bitterness in his tone.

"Now, be nice," Lyle chided him. "We're here to take you home, Bobby. You want to go home, don't you?"

"Go fuck yourself, Lyle," Bobby snarled. "I'm not going anywhere with you, you sick bastard."

A moment later, Bobby grunted in pain as Lyle shot his hand out to grip the back of his neck in a vice-like grip and forced his head down onto the table, pinning him there. At the same time, Lyle ground his other fist into Bobby's shoulder, drawing a strangled scream of pain from him.

"Hey, don't do that!" Frank burst out, only to cringe away when Lyle glared at him.

"Get lost, Frank. You've played your part. Take your money, and disappear. That is what you're good at, isn't it? Disappearing?"

"F… Frank… What did you do…?" Bobby gasped as he struggled in vain to break free from Lyle's grip.

"I'm sorry, Bobby," Frank whimpered, putting on what Bobby thought was an A-grade performance. "I… I needed the money. I'm sorry…"

"For ten thousand, he's not that sorry," Lyle retorted. "And believe me, it didn't take much effort to convince him, either."

Bobby didn't respond to that, instead scanning the room as best as he was able from where Lyle currently had him pinned.

_Raines_, he thought frantically. _Where the hell is Raines_...

The entire plan was useless if he wasn't there. To eliminate Lyle from the equation but not Raines would not provide him with the peace of mind that he so desperately sought.

"Where's your keeper, Lyle?" Bobby asked hoarsely. "You didn't come here without Raines, did you?"

It was then that Bobby heard the familiar metallic squeak of unoiled wheels, telling him that Raines was indeed there.

"No, he didn't. Let him up, Mr Lyle."

Lyle released Bobby, and he pushed himself back up slowly. A glance around confirmed his earlier suspicions about the café's staff and patrons. All of them were on their feet now, guns at the ready.

"This was a trap," Bobby said quietly. Raines smiled, clearly satisfied with himself.

"And you walked right into it."

Bobby looked back to Frank, who raised a single eyebrow in a questioning gesture. Bobby let his out in a long, slow hiss. It was time.

"No," he countered. "_You_ did."

He just had time to register the confusion on their faces before numerous cops converged on the café, pouring in through all entry points. The next few seconds were chaos as the sweepers were rapidly overpowered before they had a chance to fire a single bullet. Within a matter of seconds, only Lyle and Raines were left standing, both with their weapons drawn and aimed at Bobby.

"Gotta hand it to you, Bobby," Lyle said as he took in the dozen or more cops who either held the sweepers at bay, or stood with their guns aimed at himself and Raines. "Never saw this coming." He looked over at Frank. "Maybe I should have offered you twenty thousand."

"A hundred thousand wouldn't have been enough," Frank spat. "Nothing's worth selling out my little brother. Fuck you, you degenerate scumbag."

Lyle grunted.

"Same attitude. Go figure."

Slowly, with all the care her training had afforded her, Alex moved forward. She kept her gun trained squarely on Lyle, knowing that at least one of her colleagues had their focus on Raines.

"Put your weapons down. Now."

"Or what?" Lyle asked flatly. "You'll shoot us right here and now?"

"Do you think we wouldn't?" Deakins asked in a deadly softly tone. Lyle chuckled softly, though he made no move to lower his weapon.

"Yes, I think you probably would. The question you all have to ask yourselves is, is it worth Bobby's life? Because I promise you I can put a bullet clean through his heart before the rest of you can take me down. Are any of you willing to take that chance?"

Silence met his challenge, and Lyle chuckled again.

"I didn't think so."

"We seem to have a stalemate, here," Raines hissed, but Bobby shook his head.

"Not how I see it."

"Oh? Care to enlighten us?" Lyle asked bemusedly. Bobby nodded almost placidly.

"Sure. We outnumber you. If you do shoot me, you won't walk out of here alive. Put your guns down, and maybe that doesn't have to be the case."

"There's just one problem with that," Lyle said.

"And what's that?" Mike asked, moving up to stand beside Alex, his gun trained also on Lyle. He was itching for a reason to pull the trigger, but at the same time dared not provoke anything for fear that Bobby might suffer for it.

"You don't intend on us walking out of here at all," Lyle said bluntly, turning his gaze back to Bobby. "Do you?"

For the longest time, Bobby and Lyle stood staring at each other in utter silence. Finally, what felt like hours later, Bobby finally spoke in a low, eerily calm voice.

"No."

Lyle nodded, as placid as ever.

"I didn't think so."

And with that, he pulled the trigger.

Later on none of them would have much success piecing together what followed. Everything seemed to happen all in the same instant, in one massive blur of action.

Bobby jerked as the bullet from Lyle's gun struck him, and he staggered backwards and fell to the floor. Before anyone had the chance to retaliate, though, Frank uttered a cry of rage, and launched himself across the floor at Lyle, tackling him and causing them both to tumble into the nearby wall. With a snarl of anger, Lyle fired his gun once more, and shoved the other man roughly away. Frank collapsed to the floor, a look of pained surprise on his face as blood blossomed across his clean shirt.

Lyle barely had time to take another step when Alex, Mike and at least two other detectives opened fire. He was dead before he hit the floor, with several bullets in his torso, and one clean kill shot right in the centre of his forehead.

With a snarl of anger, Raines swung his own weapon around, clearly intending on killing Bobby. Neither Alex, Mike, nor Carolyn were fast enough to stop him, but one other person was.

A single gunshot resonated through the sudden silence that had descended on the room, and Raines crumpled to the floor, dead from a bullet wound to the temple. Deakins lowered his weapon only when he was certain that Raines was, indeed, dead, and he looked over at his colleagues with ashen features.

"It's done," he said softly, hoarsely. Alex suddenly broke her paralysis, and ran over to where Bobby lay on the floor.

"Bobby? C'mon, baby, open your eyes…"

Bobby's eyes flickered open, and he groaned softly.

"Ouch…"

Relief flooded through Alex as she opened up his shirt to reveal a bullet-proof vest, with Lyle's bullet lodged firmly in the protective metal sheet that covered his heart.

"C'mon, sit up."

He did so with a groan, wincing at the burning pain as Alex peeled back his shirt and carefully removed the vest.

"Crap, that hurts…"

"Better than getting shot for real, pal," Mike said wryly. "You okay, there?"

"Yeah," Bobby mumbled, rubbing gingerly at his chest. "I'll try to remember that when the bruise comes out... if I even notice it on top of all the bruises I already have."

"Point taken," Mike conceded wryly. "I'll just shut up now."

Bobby smiled faintly, and then looked around in mild anxiety.

"Is… Is everyone okay?"

"We're okay," Alex said tentatively. He looked up at her, suddenly fearful.

"But…?"

She let her breath out in a rush.

"Bobby, Lyle shot Frank."

Waves of fear and panic swept down through Bobby, and he struggled up despite Alex's best efforts to keep him from moving.

"Frank…?"

On the other side of the room, Olivia Benson and Elliot Stabler were seeing to Frank, and Olivia favoured Bobby with a reassuring smile.

"He's going to be okay, Bobby. It went through his side, but it's a clean wound."

Moving gingerly, Bobby made his way over to look at his brother in bemusement. Frank returned his gaze with one of mock irritation.

"Asshole. You could've told me you were wearing one of those vest things. I thought he shot you!"

"I'm sorry," Bobby apologised, "but I couldn't exactly get a hold of you to let you know. But you know, I'm touched. You took a bullet for me, Frank."

"Yeah, tell me about it." He paused, groaning as Olivia pressed a fresh wad of material to the wound. "You owe me a new shirt, man."

Bobby smiled down at his brother, his expression warm.

"Frank, I'll buy you a whole new suit for this."

Frank hesitated, and his gaze when to his brother's face. He was completely taken aback, and overwhelmed by the gratitude he saw there, in Bobby's face. It had been a long, long time since he'd gotten that from anyone, let alone his little brother. Suddenly embarrassed, he looked away to where Lyle's body lay in a pool of blood.

"Is he dead? Is it over?"

"He's dead," Mike confirmed, and to prove it he and Fin rolled the body over. Lyle's eyes were wide-open in a dead man's stare.

"Stupid son of a bitch," Mike retorted, sounding less than apologetic. "He actually thought we'd take a chance with Bobby's life."

"Someone was a good shot," Fin mused, motioning to the bullet hole in Lyle's forehead. "That's gotta be the kill shot."

Bobby looked around at Alex, but her expression gave away nothing.

"It doesn't matter who fired the kill shot," she said calmly. "What matters is that he can never hurt Bobby... or anyone else... again."

"Neither of them can," Deakins said softly.

Heart pounding, Bobby moved from Lyle's body to Raines'. Seeing two of his tormentors dead, with all the power stripped from them, gave Bobby a feeling of release that he couldn't begin to describe.

"You okay?" Alex asked him softly. He looked back at her, and she was heartened by the smile on his face.

"Yes," he answered, and he seemed to be surprised by the confidence in his own voice. "I am."

She returned his smile, awash with relief. Unlike previous times, his reply wasn't 'I will be', but rather 'I am'. He _was_ okay, she realised with burgeoning joy. He really was.

"All right," Deakins said firmly, taking charge of the situation finally. "Get the rest of these mutts up and move them out into the vans."

"You going to kill us too?" one of the sweepers dared to ask. David Ash jerked him none too gently to his feet.

"Are you going to give us a reason to?"

He was answered with sullen silence.

"You're all going to be escorted out of the state," Deakins told them. "But first we'll be recording your identities. If any of you ever set foot inside the Tri-state area again, I guarantee you'll never see the inside of a courtroom." He caught the arm of the one who had spoken up. "You go back to where you came from, and you tell everyone there that Bobby Goren is to be left alone. Do you understand me? The Centre is never to come after him again. _Never_. Understand?"

"Perfectly," came the sour reply, but beyond the audible attitude, Deakins heard a deeper level of understanding, and more than a hint of fear. Their calculated actions in that little café had finally gotten the message through. They would protect Bobby at any cost, even if it meant taking lives to do it.

"Good," Deakins said quietly. "Now go."

The man went, following his fellow sweepers out through the rear entrance. When Deakins looked back around, he was not sure whether to be surprised by the sight of Bobby crouching down beside Raines' lifeless body.

Aware that pretty much everyone was watching him, Bobby whispered very softly, in a tone that no one else could hear.

"Two down, one to go."

Then, he stood back up slowly, with some awkwardness as the movement caused a flare of pain through his chest and shoulder. Damn, he was going to be relieved when he finally had that surgery to correct the damage to his shoulder.

"Can we get out of here? Frank needs to get to the hospital."

Deakins nodded.

"Yes, let's get going. I need to put in a report about this to the Commissioner, and the other brass."

"What are you going to tell them?" Stabler wondered, although he sounded less than concerned. To his way of thinking, they'd done a good thing, and there were no regrets to be had. Whether the brass saw it that way was _their_ problem.

"The truth," Deakins said with a wry smile. "Bobby was meeting his brother for lunch, and two men ambushed him and attempted to kill him. We had undercover detectives on the scene acting as protection for Bobby, and they shot and killed the offenders in the process of defending a fellow officer."

"Nice," Mike murmured as they filed out of the cafe, with Fin and Stabler supporting Frank between them. Alex paused, looking back at Bobby who was, in turn, taking another satisfied look at Lyle and Raines' bodies.

"And what about you?" she asked softly. Bobby sighed as a fresh wave of relief washed over him, and he turned away from the bodies of his tormentors for the last time.

"I'm ready to go home," he admitted, and for the first time since his rescue, Alex heard acceptance in his voice, along with renewed confidence. He was finally ready to go home, she realised, and felt a touch of sadness mixed in with the joy.

"C'mon," she murmured, opting not to touch on that subject just yet. "Let's get to the hospital. Something tells me Liz is going to want to see you, as well."

He started to protest, until she brushed her fingertips lightly over his chest, where the bullet had struck his vest, and the groan of pain that erupted from deep inside him silenced any protests he'd intended on making.

"Okay," he conceded wryly. "You win. I'll go to the hospital."

Alex smiled and, without another word, led him out of the café.

* * *

"It was you. You shot him."

Alex regarded Bobby calmly as she helped him into a clean shirt in the ER of Mt Sinai. Despite his displeasure, the moment Liz Bauer had seen the way he was moving, she'd insisted on giving him a thorough examination, including a fresh set of chest and shoulder x-rays. He was now waiting on the results of those x-rays to tell him, as he'd grumbled to Alex, that he had a cracked rib, just as he'd suspected.

Frank, as it turned out, was only marginally worse off. Lyle's bullet had gone straight through his side in a relatively clean through-and-through. It hurt like hell, but that was the worst of it. He would need to spend a couple of days in the hospital to monitor for potential infection, but after that he'd be fine.

"Several of us shot Lyle, Bobby," Alex pointed out to him. He frowned a little at her evasive answer.

"You know what I mean."

She was silent while she contemplated his words.

"Yes," she admitted finally. "I was aiming for that son of a bitch's head. And if my bullet is the one that killed him, then I won't be sorry about it. But if you're saying you're angry..."

She was silenced very abruptly by his arm around her, pulling her in close, and his lips very firmly on hers. He felt the sigh pass through her, and felt her relax against him before drawing slowly away.

"No, I'm not angry," he murmured, nuzzling her hair with his cheek. "I was just worried. You've had to kill people before, and I've seen what it does to you. I didn't want you suffering that sort of guilt over a monster like Lyle."

Alex smiled.

"You were worried about me? That's a bit of a reversal of roles, isn't it?"

He raised an eyebrow at her, and smiled to show her that he wasn't offended by her words.

"Is it so hard to believe that I might be thinking about someone other than myself?"

Soft laughter escaped her.

"No, I guess not. I didn't mean it to sound like you were."

Bobby smiled, and hugged her fiercely to him.

"How about we start again? I just didn't want to you living with the guilt of having taken another life."

She stretched up to kiss his cheek.

"Then stop worrying. Firstly, I don't view Lyle as being human. He was inhuman, and he deserved to be treated like that... Like he treated you. I hated him for what he did to you, Bobby. He didn't deserve to live... but at the same time, I wouldn't have pulled the trigger until you said so. _He_ made the first move, in the end, and he brought it on himself. Truth is that if Frank hadn't been so quick to jump the guy, I would've shot him sooner." She paused to take a breath. "I have to admit it, Bobby. Frank impressed me. I didn't know Lyle had upped his offer."

"Neither did I," Bobby admitted. "And ten thousand dollars is a lot of money to a guy like Frank."

Alex snorted.

"It's a lot of money to me. I'll always be impressed that he chose you over a quick ten thousand. That says a lot."

"I know," Bobby agreed. "He... He could have been killed... but he stood up for me. He didn't have to, but he did. I'll always be grateful to him for that... That he did right by me." He paused, staring down at Alex anxiously. "Are you really okay?"

She hugged him as tightly as she dared.

"I'm really okay. I shot and killed a man who was threatening the life of my partner. It was a good shooting, Bobby. And just between us, I've never felt better."

Still he looked uncertain, though.

"I... I just wanted you to feel right about it."

"I do, Bobby. I promise you that I do." She hugged him again. "It's over. It really is over."

"Not entirely," he corrected her after a moment's hesitation. "The Centre is still out there... and so is Sydney."

"You think they might still come after you?" she asked worriedly. "Even after what happened today?"

He thought that over for a moment before shaking his head.

"No. I think what happened today is going to send them a pretty definitive warning. But Sydney is still out there, and I wouldn't put it past him to try and make contact with me."

"You really think he'd try?" Alex wondered, and a bitter smile crossed Bobby's features.

"He's a shrink with an insatiable curiosity. It may take a little time, but he'll try. He won't be able to help himself. What really worries me is that I don't know how I'll react when he does. Part of me wants to kill him... but another part of me doesn't want to hurt him because of Jarod."

Alex sighed softly.

"I'd like to say that you don't owe Jarod anything, but I guess you do. We would never have gotten you out of that place if it hadn't been for him."

"Yes, you would have," Bobby said quietly. "I know you, Alex. You wouldn't have given up. You would have found a way."

"You have an awful lot of faith in me, Bobby Goren," Alex whispered tearfully. He hugged her close, and kissed her gently.

"Yes, I do. And I know it's well placed. I love you, Alex Eames."

A shudder rippled through her, and tears stung her eyes. It was the first time those words had passed his lips, where she hadn't prompted him by saying them first.

"I love you, too," she whispered, leaning back into his embrace.

They stood like that for minutes in contented silence before the sound of the curtain being drawn back alerted them to the fact that they were no longer alone. Rather than jumping apart, though, Alex simply turned her head to look at the interloper.

Liz Bauer regarded them with amusement as she pulled the curtain closed behind her.

"I'll bet you're both thanking your lucky stars that I'm not your captain."

"Actually, Liz, it wouldn't matter if you were," Alex said calmly. "If he doesn't know already, then we're not going to try hiding it from him. I don't think he'd try to separate us anyway."

"Well, I won't be the one to say anything," Liz assured them. "Okay, Bobby. X-rays are back, and you've won yourself a cracked rib, but I guess you already knew that."

Bobby nodded.

"I figured as much."

"There's not a lot I can do for that, except tell you to take it easy for a few weeks, but I guess that since you'll be back in here on Thursday for your shoulder, it's something of a moot point."

A wry smile crossed Bobby's features.

"Yeah," he agreed. "It is."

Liz chuckled, and turned her attention to Alex.

"Get him dressed, and get him out of here. I don't want to see him back in here before Thursday."

"Yes, Ma'am," Alex said with a laugh, quietly marvelling that she could once more feel the desire to laugh. It had been a painfully long time since there had been anything to laugh and smile about.

Liz left them alone, and Alex returned her attention to Bobby, swatting away his roaming hand as she tried to button up his shirt.

"Knock it off, Goren," she growled. "This is hardly the place."

He smirked, but stilled his hand.

"Think we might be able to stay at your place tonight? You know... for some privacy?"

She quirked an eyebrow at him.

"What happened to not wanting to start what you can't finish?"

"I'm sure we could figure something out," he murmured, nuzzling her hair again.

"Chill out, Bobby," she told him, though she couldn't keep a grin off her face at his eagerness. "There'll be plenty of time for that, _after_ you've had that shoulder surgery. Until then..."

He sighed comically.

"Okay, okay. _After_." He smiled down at her affectionately as she finished buttoning up his shirt. "I really love you, Alex."

She returned his smile with a brilliant one of her own.

"I know you do."

_

* * *

_

_tbc..._


	39. No Miracle Cure

The scream ripped Alex brutally out of what had been a peaceful slumber, throwing her back into awareness with painful abruptness. She sat up in bed, heart pounding and wondering whether she'd just imagined it, when a second scream shattered the silence. In borderline panic, Alex flung herself out of bed, and bolted out of her room. She reached Bobby's door at the same time as her parents and, sparing them an anxious look, darted in through the open door.

* * *

Bobby was truly in a state, and it was all Alex could do not to simply burst into tears at the sight of him. As it was, she couldn't stop the tears from stinging her eyes. He'd come off the bed, and was huddled in a corner of the room, clutching at the blanket that he was tangled up in as some meagre form of protection. He was sobbing helplessly, rocking back at forth, and seemingly oblivious to his surroundings.

Alex started towards him, and John caught her arm in concern.

"Honey, be careful. If he lashes out…"

"I can handle it," she murmured. John nodded.

"You may be able to, Lexie, but _Bobby_ might not. Just be careful, okay?"

Nodding, she ventured forward, towards her stricken partner.

"Bobby? Are you with me?"

To her great relief, he responded almost immediately to her voice, looking up at her with eyes that were red and swollen from shedding tears.

"Alex…"

She went to him, and suddenly found herself being clung to with a desperation that was heartbreaking. She managed to get her arms around him, and held him to her.

"What happened?" she asked softly, ignoring the hovering presence of her parents. "Talk to me, Bobby. Tell me what happened."

"N… Nightmare," he choked out. "I had a nightmare…"

"Bad one?" she wondered.

"No," he admitted in between shaky sobs. Alex was puzzled.

"Then what's wrong?"

"I thought they'd stop," he whimpered. "They… They were supposed to stop! Why won't they stop…?"

And then she understood.

"Oh, Bobby," she whispered, hugging him all the more closely. "We got rid of Lyle and Raines, but that was never going to stop your nightmares totally. There's no miracle cure for that. Time is the only thing that will help there."

"I just want them to stop," Bobby sobbed into her shoulder.

"I know you do," she whispered. "But you have to be patient. I know that seems like a hard thing to say, but there will eventually come a night where you won't have nightmares about that place… About those people."

"What am I supposed to do until then?" he asked bitterly. Alex pressed her lips to his cheek.

"Rely on me. Let me take care of you. Will you do that? Will you let me help you?"

"Yes."

His answer was so soft that she almost missed it. Once she understood, though, she sighed and kissed him again, this time on the top of his head.

"It'll be all right, Bobby. Just trust me, okay?"

He shifted slightly against her, his sobs easing noticeably.

"I do," he whispered, and she knew he meant it.

* * *

Long after Bobby fell asleep again, Alex stayed in the room with him, keeping silent watch. It was only after he'd finally drifted off to the sleep, though, that Alex allowed herself to shed real tears.

She understood his heartache, and his hope that Raines and Lyle's deaths would have signalled an end to the night terrors that tormented his subconscious. If she was completely honest, she'd admit that she had harboured the same hope. It was emotionally devastating to discover that was not the case.

Stepping away from the bedside, Alex looked out of the window and down onto the darkened street below. In reality, there seemed to be no way of knowing when… or if… his nightmares would ever end. Jarod had tried to warn her that that would more than likely be the case, and she hadn't wanted to listen. Now, it seemed his words were true after all.

She started to turn away from the window, only to freeze. Down on the street, and only partially visible in the shadows, was a distinctly female figure. Alex's breath caught in her throat. There was no way that someone would have been out on the street at that time of night, and she suddenly found herself wondering if this was the same woman whose mysterious presence had taunted Bobby that night in the hospital.

Her blood suddenly ran cold as it occurred to her that this could well be Brigitte, the woman who had cause Bobby so much misery. Filled with a sudden determination, Alex glanced once at her sleeping partner, and hurried from the room.

* * *

Mike was on his fifth cup of coffee, and Carolyn was on her third, when the back door of their SUV opened, and Alex slid in.

"What are you doing up?" Mike demanded to know.

"You sound like my father," Alex retorted dryly, but Mike only grunted unapologetically in reply.

"Seriously, Alex," Carolyn asked. "Why aren't you inside where it's warm? It's absolutely freezing out here!"

"I spotted someone watching the house," she told them bluntly. "Specifically, watching Bobby's room. Someone female."

Startled silence met her words, and Mike leaned forward with a frown, as though doing so would afford him a better view.

"Female?" Carolyn echoed worriedly. "As in blonde, with a British accent?"

"Could be," Alex agreed. "Which would leave us with two possibilities, each as unpleasant as the other."

"Who do you think it is?" Mike asked, even as he released the clip on his gun belt.

"I'm tipping it's that Brigitte woman," Alex answered. "If it's not, then the only other person I can think of who'd have a reason to be hanging around our house, watching Bobby's room, is Nicole Wallace. And I'm hoping even less that it's her."

"Last thing he needs is that psycho showing up now," Mike agreed. "Okay. Let's go get our midnight caller."

* * *

Carolyn spotted her first, standing beneath a Sycamore tree and very obviously watching Bobby's room. She seemed oblivious to the presence of anyone else, leaning casually against the tree and twirling a lollypop in her mouth. Moving slowly, and remaining conscious of the fact that they didn't know whether she was armed, Mike approached her from behind, while Alex and Carolyn approached her from the sides.

"Don't move," Mike said quietly as he pressed the gun to the back of the woman's head. She froze, panic virtually radiating off her. He glanced around as Alex and Carolyn emerged out of the darkness, and Carolyn took the liberty of handcuffing her.

"Wh… What did I do?" the woman asked shakily, in a distinctly American accent. The three detectives exchanged glances. It certainly wasn't Nicole, which left one possibility.

"Your name wouldn't happen to be Brigitte, would it?" Mike asked coolly as he came around to stand in front of the woman. She regarded him with wide eyes.

"No, it's Jenny. Who are you?"

"Your worst nightmare, if you're lying," Mike growled. "What are you doing out here?"

The woman seemed to shrink slightly under his glare.

"I… I was paid to be here."

"By the Centre?" Alex demanded to know.

"The… The what…? No… A man… I don't know who he is. He just offered me money to be here… like this."

"Does this man have a name?" Mike asked.

"He told me to call him Mr Lyle. Look, I didn't think I was doing anything wrong," she protested. "He just said he wanted to play a prank on a buddy. And… I couldn't afford to turn down a thousand dollars, you know?"

Again, the three detectives exchanged rueful looks. The woman's story was plausible, but none of them could be sure, and none of them knew what Brigitte looked like. For all they knew, this _was_ her, and she was simply spinning them a story to convince them to let her off.

"Look, can I please go?" she asked, her eyes flickering nervously from one detective to the next. "I'm sorry if I caused any problems…"

"Lady, you have no idea just how many problems you caused," Mike snapped as he searched her pockets. "And no, you can't go. Not until we know for sure who you are."

"I already told you…"

"Yeah, your name's Jenny," Alex retorted. "Excuse us if we don't take your word for it."

"Check it out," Mike said, and he opened his hand to reveal half a dozen cherry lollypops.

"Mr Lyle gave those to me," the woman said anxiously. "He said it was part of the joke. He said I had to suck on one of them all the time I was out here. Hey… Where are you taking me?"

"Back to our squad room," Carolyn answered as they ushered her back towards the SUV. "There's one person who can tell us for certain if you really are Brigitte, and there's no way we're waking him up now to do it. So you can just cool it in a holding cell for the rest of the night."

"Oh, please, no," the woman sobbed. "I said I was sorry! What more do you want?"

"Lady," Mike said in a positively frigid tone, "you really don't want an answer to that."

* * *

"Tell us," Carolyn asked once they were on their way back to One Police Plaza, "did this Mr Lyle get you to pull this same stunt outside Mt Sinai a week or so ago?"

The woman shifted uncomfortably in the back seat.

"Yes, but I didn't know why! He just told me to stand in a particular spot for a couple of hours, and suck on those damn lollypops." She grimaced. "I don't even like lollypops."

"If you're telling us the truth, then you don't have anything to worry about," Carolyn assured her.

"I'm not Brigitte, whoever you think she is," she insisted. Mike glanced coolly at her in the rear view mirror.

"For your sake, I hope not."

* * *

"Lexie?"

Alex looked up wearily as she made her way back inside, to find her father waiting there with a worried frown.

"Hey, Dad."

"What's happened? Is everything okay?"

She nodded.

"As much as it can be. We just caught someone outside, watching the house."

John started in shock.

"What? But I thought that would be all done with!"

"Apparently not," she muttered. "Luckily, Bobby was asleep by then, and he didn't see her."

John froze. "_Her_...?"

"Yes. Her. Dad, we think it's Brigitte."

"Sweet Jesus."

"We _think_," she insisted. "We don't know for sure. She says her name is Jenny, and that Lyle paid her to hang around here, but the problem is that none of us actually know what Brigitte looks like. Bobby is really the only one who could make a positive ID."

"So… Are you going to wake him up?"

"God, no. No, Mike and Carolyn are taking her back to One Police Plaza and they'll keep her there until later this morning, when Bobby can come in and say whether it's her or not."

"It's not going to be easy for him to do that," John reminded her gently. Alex sighed.

"I know, Dad. But at the same time, if it _is_ her, then we can deal with her…"

"Like you dealt with those other two?"

Alex stopped in her tracks, staring at him grimly. John looked back at her, regretful but not apologising.

"We did the right thing, Dad," she said finally, softly. "If Bobby can sleep better at night for knowing those two bastards are dead…"

"Didn't help him much tonight," John said, and Alex flinched visibly.

"That's not fair."

A faint sigh escaped John's lips.

"I'm sorry, Lexie. I know you did the only thing you could do. Just give me some time to deal with it, okay?"

She nodded, and continued past him, towards the stairs.

"Okay, Dad. And for the record, I do understand. I'm not exactly a hundred percent okay with it, either, but I can live with it knowing we did what we did to keep Bobby safe. And you're right. It _was_ the only thing we could do."

John watched her disappear back upstairs before shaking his head sadly and heading back to bed himself.

* * *

When Deakins arrived at the bullpen that morning, he was more than a little surprised to find Carolyn and Mike at their respective desks. He approached them slowly, visibly confused by their presence.

"Didn't you two just come off an all-nighter? What are you doing here?"

"We're waiting for Alex to bring Bobby in," Mike answered him. "And, before you flip, hear us out. We caught her last night, Captain."

Deakins' breath caught in his throat. Deep down, he knew what Mike was talking about, but a part of him still wanted to deny it.

"Who, Mike?"

"We're not sure yet, Captain," Carolyn interrupted, fixing a warning look in her partner's direction. "All we know is that it's the woman that Bobby saw from the hospital room the night after we came home. Remember, when we all thought he was just seeing things? Well, he wasn't, and Alex saw her again last night. We caught her, and she's in the holding cell right now."

"She says her name is Jenny, and that Lyle paid her to hang around and generally psyche Bobby out," Mike went on, "but we're not taking any chances."

"And Alex is bringing Bobby in because…?" Deakins wondered.

"To identify her," Mike answered matter-of-factly. "It could be Brigitte, Captain. If it is, we can't just let her walk out of here."

"We're waiting for Alex to call and let us know they're on their way," Carolyn added. "Then we'll move her into one of the interrogation rooms, so that Bobby can ID her when they get here."

Deakins shut his eyes briefly. Mike was right when he said that they could not simply allow the woman to walk free if she did turn out to be Brigitte, but this was not… _could not_ be a repeat of the café situation from the previous day. They could not simply execute her, even if she did happen to be the same woman who had caused Bobby so much grief and trauma… and despite knowing that Brigitte's capture would possible give Bobby even more peace of mind…

"Is it really absolutely necessary to bring Bobby in?"

Mike raised an eyebrow.

"Well, that depends, Captain. Do _you_ know what Brigitte looks like? Because we don't, and the doc is busy with SVU cases at the moment."

It took some effort on Deakins' part not to groan aloud. Mike had a point, however blunt it was.

"No," he admitted reluctantly. "I don't know what she looks like. I never actually saw any of the sim discs that had her on them. All right… When did Alex say she was going to bring Bobby in?"

"As soon as he's ready," Carolyn said. "She didn't want to rush him. He, uh… He had a pretty bad night, Captain. You know… nightmares."

The captain sighed.

"I had a feeling that might happen. It's going to be a long time before the nightmares ease off. He may never be able to completely rid himself of some of them."

Carolyn nodded her agreement.

"Even with Raines and Lyle dead, the memories are going to be with him for a long time. There's no miracle cure here. There are a lot of things that happened to him that he might not ever really get over."

"Yeah, well, whether he gets over it or not isn't so much the point," Mike retorted. "It's whether he can learn to live with it that matters. And if you ask me, I think he's gonna be okay, especially once he gets back to work. Seriously, you both saw the look on his face when he got his shield back."

"Yes," Deakin murmured, reflecting on that memory with a smile. That had indeed been one of the more satisfying moments since getting Bobby out of the Centre. "I saw. I thought that we could have Bobby here doing some light paperwork and other things, if he's feeling up to it. Now that Lyle and Raines aren't a threat anymore…"

"And once we find out who that woman is," Mike added. Deakins nodded in agreement and, with a grim look in the direction of the holding cells, headed to his office to await Bobby's arrival.

* * *

Bobby was silent all the way to One Police Plaza, not responding even after repeated attempts on Alex's part to draw his attention. He sat cloaked in silence, staring out the passenger window of Alex's car. She eventually gave up on trying to get through to him. Wherever he was right then, it was beyond her reach. All she could do was be patient, and wait for him to come back to her on his own.

It wasn't until they were pulling in to One Police Plaza's underground garage that Bobby finally seemed to rouse himself from wherever his mind had fled to for the duration of the drive.

"You okay?" Alex asked softly. His eyes flitted to hers just briefly before shifting away again.

"I don't know," he answered with abrupt honesty.

"Bobby…"

"What if it's her?" he asked suddenly, and Alex could hear the borderline panic in his voice. "I… I don't know if I can face her, Alex. I'd almost rather face Nicole Wallace."

"You don't have to be face to face with her, Bobby," she assured him. "I talked to Mike before we left home. They've got her waiting in one of the interrogation rooms. All you have to do is look at her through the glass, and say whether it's her or not. Then we can go. She'll never even know you're there. It'll be all right."

"It's not that easy," Bobby whispered miserably, and Alex squeezed his hand reassuringly.

"I know. But how about we take it one step at a time? And we can start by just getting out of the car. How about it?"

For a long minute, she thought he was going to ignore her. But then, suddenly, he pushed the door open and got out of the car, and allowed Alex to usher him to the elevator.

* * *

"Did… Did Mike say if there are a lot of people around?"

Alex looked up at him quizzically.

"A lot of people? You mean, in the squad room? I don't know, Bobby. Just the normal number, I guess."

He hesitated, looking more than a little uncomfortable.

"Ten?" he queried finally. "More…?"

Alex looked up at him with sad realisation.

"You don't really remember what it was like working in the bullpen, do you?"

The red flush that crept across his cheeks answered her question, and she hugged him gently.

"Don't be embarrassed, Bobby. No one is going to hold it against you."

"It's not that," he said as they stepped into the elevator. "At least, it's not only that. I just… I can't help thinking… as much as I want to go back to work again…"

Her hand grasping his tightly effectively silenced him.

"Don't, Bobby," she told him softly. "Don't go jumping to conclusions and making rash decisions."

"I'm not," he promised her. "It's just… It's hard to explain. Yesterday I was feeling good. Today… I don't feel so great."

"And it doesn't help knowing who it is that we might be holding up there," Alex murmured. His shoulders slumped a little.

"Not really," he admitted softly. Alex rubbed her hand up and down his back in what she hoped was a reassuring gesture.

"It's okay to feel like that, Bobby. We don't expect you to just come bouncing back. It was always going to be a gradual thing."

She trailed off as the elevator slid to a halt at the eleventh floor, and the doors slid open. Looking up at him and slipping her hand into his for reassurance – both hers and his – Alex motioned out into the corridor.

"C'mon. Let's do this."

Drawing in a slow, shaky breath, Bobby nodded and allowed her to lead him around and into the Major Case bullpen.

* * *

Nothing could ease Bobby's embarrassment when, as they walked into the bullpen, a startled silence descended on the room, and all eyes turned to stare. Squeezing Bobby's hand firmly, Alex led him through the maze of desks to where Mike and Carolyn were waiting.

"Hey, pal," Mike greeted him amiably. "You ready to do this?"

"Would it make any difference if I said no?" Bobby asked weakly, starting to sound as sick as he looked. Carolyn reached over to gently rub his back.

"She's already in the interrogation room, Bobby. You only need to look at her through the observation window. She'll never even know you're there."

Bobby grimaced.

"Now I know how witnesses feel when they have to ID a suspect." He paused, looking pale and haunted. "I don't know what I want more. For it to be her… or for it _not_ to be her."

"One step at a time," Alex murmured, hugging him reassuringly.

"C'mon," Mike said, nodding towards the interrogation rooms. "Let's go see if she's who she says she's not."

Bobby and Alex's eyebrows both shot up at the convoluted remark, and Carolyn could only shrug in the face of their confusion.

"What can I say? Too much coffee, and not enough sleep."

"Not a good combination for him at any time," Alex remarked wryly.

"Tell me about it," Carolyn agreed.

"Hey, I'm right here, remember?" Mike reminded them, though he could barely conceal a grin.

"Where's the captain?" Bobby wondered, the brief banter seemingly going over his head.

"He got called upstairs," Carolyn told him. "He should be back soon. C'mon, Bobby. Come and have a quick look, and then we'll go out and get a coffee together, us and the captain. What do you say?"

"Yeah," Bobby mumbled, less than enthusiastically. "That… That sounds good."

Before they could move, though, a shadow fell across the desk, and the four of them looked around to see David Ash standing there, looking painfully nervous.

"What is it, Ash?" Mike asked calmly, deliberately using the detective's name so that Bobby wouldn't have to suffer the embarrassment of having to ask. Ash's gaze flickered to Bobby who was, in turn, watching him with a slight frown.

"Just wanted to say… to Bobby, I mean… It's great to have to you back, man."

"Thanks," Bobby murmured, and though he couldn't quite hold the other man's gaze, none of them missed the gratitude in his voice at Ash's genuine words.

"Anything you need, just say," Ash told him with a little more confidence. Bobby nodded and then suddenly lifted his gaze to meet Ash's eyes squarely.

"Thankyou," he said in a quiet, sincere voice. Slowly, his gaze swept around the squad room, briefly catching the eye of each man there. "Thankyou… for yesterday. Thankyou for everything."

"Anytime, anywhere, Goren," someone said firmly in answer. Bobby swallowed hard, bolstered noticeably by the strong show of support from his fellow detectives. He looked back to Alex, Mike and Carolyn with fresh determination.

"Let's do this."

* * *

It was painfully obvious that their mystery woman had been crying fairly steadily. She sat at the table in the interrogation room, shoulders hunched and head down. Mike, Carolyn and Alex stood back as Bobby slowly approached the glass to peer at the woman on the other side.

He stared at the woman in the interrogation room, taking in the sight of her with a quickened breath and a rush of memories before finally turning back to them. The relief on his face was palpable.

"It's not her. It's not Brigitte."

Mike came forward, then, coming to stand beside Bobby as he looked into the other room.

"She was telling the truth, then. She's just someone that Lyle paid off."

"Uh… Not exactly," Bobby corrected. "I… I know her."

"You _know_ her?" Alex echoed in shock. "From where?"

"From the… the Centre. She was one of the assistants in the hospital wing. She… She was always kind to me. I don't understand why she's here. Why would she be working for Lyle? He treated her like dirt. She hated him almost as much as I did."

Mike looked across at his friend.

"Would you like to ask her?"

Bobby hesitated for just a brief moment before answering with a nod.

"Yes," he said, surprising himself as well as his companions. "I think I would."

* * *

The woman sat in miserable silence, reaching occasionally for a fresh tissue. She'd lost track of how long she'd been there for, and she was starting to wonder fearfully just what the police had in mind for her. Not that she could blame them, she supposed unhappily.

She'd known that Lyle was not to be trusted, but at the same time she'd had no choice but to obey his order. And his order had been to hang around in strategic positions until she was caught out. What she hadn't anticipated was being locked up in a police cell, with no access to a lawyer, a phone, or anything else.

They knew, she thought with a chill. Despite her denials, and her faithful recitation of the story Lyle had given her, they still knew.

_Damn him_, she thought miserably. _Damn him to hell_.

And while she was at it, damn the Centre, too. Why couldn't they just leave Bobby alone?

Her thoughts turned to him, and a fresh wave of nausea hit at the unwelcome realisation that Lyle had effectively forced her to impersonate that witch, Brigitte. She felt like a royal fool – it hadn't even occurred to her until that male cop had said the woman's name. Then, she'd finally understood what Lyle had been using her for, and the devastation she'd felt was beyond horrendous.

Her tears now were not for herself, but for the one who had already suffered more than any human deserved – with perhaps two or three notable exceptions. Her tears were shed out of grief for the knowledge that her actions would have undoubtedly caused him even more pain and fear.

The door suddenly swung open, and she looked up, expecting to be confronted by one of the three cops had brought her in. Her breath froze in her throat at the sight of the man who stood in the doorway.

"Bobby…" she whispered, all pretence out the proverbial window.

He said nothing, but walked over and sat down opposite her, as he would have done in any interrogation. His breath caught a little as he sat, and a wave of emotion nearly overcame him as realisation hit, and hit hard.

This was no pretend. This was real. It was who he was, and where he belonged, and nothing the Centre had done, or might try to do, could ever strip him of that.

Slowly, he lifted his eyes to meet the gaze of the woman across from him, taking a moment to observe her before speaking.

"My friends… My colleagues… thought you were Brigitte."

He marvelled quietly that he was able to say the name without his voice breaking. She shifted uncomfortably where she sat.

"I know."

"I told them that you weren't… but then it occurred to me, I don't know who you are. I don't know what your name is. Nine months, and they never let you tell me your name."

"Jenny," she answered softly. "My name is Jenny Stephens. Bobby, I am so sorry…"

She was silenced abruptly when he lifted his hand.

"Just… Explain to me why," he said finally. Her shoulders slumped again.

"It was Mr Lyle. He told me I had to, or…"

"Or?"

She looked up at him, tears filling her eyes.

"Or he'd kill my husband. I didn't have a choice, but I didn't realise what it was that he was having me do until that other cop called me Brigitte. God, I felt so sick when I realised. To think that he'd have me pretend to be a dead woman, just to get at you…"

Bobby did a double-take, her words catching him off-guard.

"D… Dead? She… She's dead?"

Jenny stared at him for several seconds, eyes wide.

"Oh my god… Of course, you wouldn't know. She was killed when the Centre in Blue Cove was destroyed. She didn't get out in time, and the place went up with her inside. All they found was her…"

"Her what?" Bobby asked, frowning. Jenny gulped.

"Her head. Mr Parker was devastated. Though… I guess you wouldn't care so much about that."

Bobby barely heard her. His mind was reeling. If Brigitte had been killed in the Centre explosion, then that meant that Lyle had been bluffing when they'd been in the car together. His stomach rolled unpleasantly. If Lyle hadn't taunted him like that, he wouldn't have snapped, and he might not have escaped.

He shoved the thought brutally from his mind. Just thinking that would be enough to make his nightmares worse than they already were.

"She really is dead?" he asked softly, and Jenny nodded.

"I saw her… her remains myself, Bobby. I swear to you, she really is dead."

He let his breath out in a rush.

"Then you can go home to your husband. You're… you're both safe."

She was clearly puzzled.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that Lyle is dead, too. And so is Raines."

Her eyes widened in shock.

"Are you serious?"

"They… They tried to ambush me yesterday… but they weren't counting on the number of cops I had trying to protect me. They were both shot dead when they tried to kill me."

The tears came in a flood, and Jenny slumped over with her face in her hands as she cried.

"Oh… Thank God…"

After a moment's hesitation, Bobby got up and moved around to sit beside her. He laid a hand lightly on her shoulder, and a moment later she collapsed against him, sobbing out her relief.

"I'm sorry," she said in a voice that was muffled by his sweater. "I'm so sorry. I didn't want to hurt you, but he just didn't give me any choice."

Bobby sighed softly.

"I know," he murmured. "You have a choice now, though. What are you going to choose?"

"I'm never going back to that place… to those people," she vowed, pulling back a little so that he could see the serious intent in her face. "I'm done with them."

He nodded approvingly.

"Good. That's good." He paused, looking at her thoughtfully before speaking again.

"Thankyou."

She was puzzled again.

"For what?"

"For trying to take care of me. You were one of the few people that I knew wouldn't hurt me. I… I can't explain how much that meant."

Jenny reached up to gently cup his cheek briefly.

"I am so glad you're free of that horrible place. I pray they'll never take you again."

"They won't," Bobby assured her, and was quietly thrilled to discover that this time, he truly believed what he was saying.

* * *

"So… That woman was one of the people who actually helped you?" Mike asked incredulously after Jenny had finally gone. Bobby nodded as they emerged from the observation room together.

"Yes. She was one of the nurses. If it wasn't for her, by the time you found me, my right arm might have been completely useless. It was only because of her care that it wasn't."

"And she was only pretending to be Brigitte because Lyle threatened her," Carolyn mused. Alex frowned.

"Why didn't she tell us that to begin with? Why lie about it?"

"Would you have believed her if she had told you the truth?" Bobby asked, and Alex sighed softly.

"I suppose not."

Bobby hugged her to him.

"Exactly."

"But you believe her," Mike said, and Bobby nodded.

"Yes. I do. She's got no reason to lie to me. And… I trust her. She's one of three people in that building that I knew I _could_ trust."

"Who are the other two?" Carolyn wondered. Bobby regarded his friends thoughtfully as they headed around to the elevators.

"Do you really want to know?"

"I bet I know," Alex said softly. "Angelo, and Miss Parker. Right?"

He looked slightly disconcerted, but nodded.

"Yes."

"Why Miss Parker?" Mike asked with a frown. Bobby smiled faintly.

"Maybe I'll explain it to you one day… but not right now."

"Now, we get coffee," Alex said, and Carolyn rubbed her hands together enthusiastically.

"Right."

The elevator pinged, and the doors slid open. Bobby started to take a step forward, and froze, what little colour there was in his face quickly disappearing. Standing immediately opposite him, in the elevator with an irritated-looking Jimmy Deakins, was Chief of Detectives Kyle Harris.

* * *

_tbc..._


	40. An Acceptable Explanation

A/N: _I was startled to realise at some point in writing this chapter that there is not much left to write of this story. It is, finally, nearing the end, and it's been a true marathon effort. I think I've been working on it fairly constantly for well over a year now, and the plot was churning in my brain long before I threw down the challenge to myself to actually post it and see what would happen. Well, we've all seen what happened!_

_I do feel there are perhaps just one or two chapters to come after this, but I do want to say this – if we get to the end and you feel I haven't wrapped up all the loose ends, or given Bobby complete closure, don't panic. Truth is, the muse is already forming a follow-up story. Probably won't be anywhere near as long as this one, mind you, but there is definitely one in the works, because there is one "loose end" which I have no intention of tying up in this particular story. The opportunities it presents for a new story entirely are simply too promising to ignore._

_So, for now, enjoy…_

* * *

For an indeterminably long time, no one moved or spoke. Bobby and Harris stood frozen as they stared at each other, while the others looked on in a temporary state of apparent impotence. When someone did finally break the silence, it was Harris, and he sounded almost sick to his stomach.

"G… Goren… Y… You're back…"

Slowly, Bobby shook himself back to reality, and his expression hardened.

"Not yet," he answered in a soft, but almost frigid tone, "but I will be."

Harris winced noticeably, and stepped carefully around Bobby.

"Excuse me. Your captain and I have issues to discuss."

He turned and almost ran for the bullpen, and the perceived safety of Deakins' office, leaving the Major Case captain well behind. After a long moment's indecision, Bobby abandoned his friends, and went after the Chief of Detectives.

* * *

"Chief Harris. Sir! Chief Harris!"

Harris slowed to a halt, groaning softly as he turned to face Bobby.

"What is it, Goren?"

Bobby regarded him incredulously.

"You can't guess?"

"You want to know why?" Harris asked, and Bobby nodded.

"Yes. I do."

"Well, that's my business, Goren. Not yours."

"The hell it's not!" Bobby exploded, all the suppressed fury suddenly bubbling to the surface in a terrifying rush. "You sold me out to them! You turned me over like I meant nothing! Like I was a… a _thing_ to be bartered for! Don't you stand there, and tell me it's not my business."

"It was nothing personal against you, Goren, if that's what you're thinking," Harris insisted, cringing when his words only seemed to enrage Bobby all the more.

"Nothing personal? Oh, well, I'm glad that you can be so fucking indifferent about it! You son of a bitch, do you have any idea what they did to me in that place? Do you?"

"Goren…" Harris started to say, but Bobby cut him off.

"I bet you don't have the first fucking clue. So, why don't you take a good look right now?"

And with that, he pulled up his shirt, revealing the horrific scarring across his stomach from Raines' many experiments. Harris flinched visibly at the sight, his already pale face turned a nauseating shade of green.

"Oh my god…"

"This one," Bobby said gutturally, indicating a barely-healed laceration that ran across the right side of his abdomen. "This one was done when Raines wanted to test an anaesthetic that he'd created himself. He took out my fucking appendix, Chief Harris. And by the way, the anaesthetic didn't work. I screamed so hard that I completely lost my voice for a week, and I still remember how much it hurt. And these over here…" He motioned to pockmarks on his skin that looked very much like a cluster of bullet wound scars. "They used me for target practise for a new style of rubber bullet that the Centre had been employed to test. Except, the rubber bullets turned out to be the real thing. Lucky for me that they weren't aiming for anything vital. And here…" This time, he indicated more lacerations. "Well, these were just for the hell of it, because I wouldn't cooperate and complete Raines' simulations. Which, by the way, were usually things like becoming a serial killer. Planning a major terrorist attack. Becoming a child rapist. Things that would make any decent person sick to their damned stomach! I was in that place for nine months, and it was the longest nine months of my life, so do not stand there and say I don't have the right to know, because I do. I deserve an answer from you. You _owe_ me an answer!"

"He's right," Deakins said as he came up to stand beside Bobby in a visible show of support. "After everything that Bobby was put through in that place… by those people… an explanation is the very least that you owe him."

Harris glanced around, and was more than a little disconcerted to discover that every detective currently in the bullpen was watching him with open hostility. He briefly considered making a break for the elevators, only to realise that Alex Eames, Mike Logan and Carolyn Barek had positioned themselves in the entrance to the bullpen, preventing him from leaving.

"All right," he said hoarsely, realising that there was no getting out of it. "Let's go into one of the interview rooms."

"No," Bobby said tightly. "Here. Now."

"Damn it, Goren," Harris growled, but now they could all hear a distinct hint of desperation in his voice. Bobby, however, had no intention of backing down. He motioned around him in a vague gesture, indicating the other members of the squad.

"They… all of them… they took a big chance for me. Some of them risked their lives. They all deserve to know why, too. So you'll tell me here… now… where everyone can hear."

Harris was looking thoroughly ill by then, but he put up no further argument.

"You want the truth?" he asked hoarsely. "The honest to God truth? The truth is that I was a goddamned coward. Instead of doing the right thing and standing my ground against them, I folded like a goddamned suitcase. Yes, I'm ashamed of it. And yes, I'd change it if I could, but I can't and I'm sorry. That's all I can say, Goren. I'm sorry."

"You're sorry," Alex said harshly as she came forward to stand on the other side of Bobby. "That's all you can say. That you're sorry?"

Harris looked from her back to Bobby in distress.

"What do you want me to say? What can I possibly say that could make it any better?"

"Nothing," Bobby answered flatly. "Not a damned thing. Just tell me why. Why did they choose you to ambush me? What leverage did they have over you?"

Harris stood frozen for several long seconds before finally wilting under the intensity of Bobby's stare. His pained gaze flickered briefly to Deakins as he answered.

"My sister," he said softly. Deakins frowned a little.

"Lisa? The one who's institutionalised?"

Harris nodded.

"Yes." He looked back to Bobby. "My younger sister Lisa is severely mentally disabled. She's forty-six years old, and she has the mental capacity of a five year old. She's been institutionalised all her life. I've always looked out for her as best as I could, but the hospice is the only place where she can stay full time and get the full time care that she needs. She… She was taken out under the pretence of going on a day trip to the zoo, and she didn't come back. Those two… Lyle and Parker… They turned up in my office the day before they took you. They showed me video footage of my sister, and told me that unless I cooperated and did what they told me, I'd never see her again." He rubbed fiercely at his eyes. "I'm sorry, Goren, but my sister… I couldn't let anything happen to her. I just couldn't."

"How did they even know about your sister?" Deakins asked.

"I knew the Centre existed," Harris explained softly. "I knew, because my parents sent Lisa there early on in the hope that they could help her. They couldn't, of course, and the experiments they conducted on her were inhumane."

"And yet you still gave me up to them," Bobby said softly, although there was less animosity in his voice than before.

"They were going to kill her!" Harris burst out. "Or… or worse. I didn't have a choice, and I knew it would have been pointless to make it an official investigation. Even if it had gotten anywhere, Lisa still would have come back to me in a body bag." He looked across at Deakins. "You know that as well as I do, Jim."

Silence met Harris' words. Finally, after an almost painfully long time, Goren spoke in a noticeably subdued tone.

"I… I understand. Did you get her back safely?"

Harris nodded, acutely aware that his eyes were burning from the unshed tears that he was struggling to hold back.

"Yes. They sent her back to the institute a week after you were taken. I am truly sorry, Goren. If I'd been able to see another way through it, I would have taken it. I am so sorry."

"I believe you," Bobby murmured, although the looks on the others' faces suggested that they weren't quite as willing to accept his reasons.

"Why didn't you tell us this sooner?" Deakins asked, frowning darkly. Harris looked around, and then sank into a nearby chair. He looked tired, and defeated.

"What good would it have done, Jim? Really, what would have been the point? It wouldn't have made the situation any easier for you all to bear, and really… Would you have even believed me anyway?"

"Probably not," Deakins conceded quietly, and Harris nodded.

"Exactly." He was silent for a long moment before speaking, his attention once more focused on Bobby. "I know it's not enough. It'll probably never be enough. All I can do is tell you again how sorry I am, and that I swear to you that I'll never let anything like it happen again."

Bobby stared him down until Harris had to divert his gaze. Only then did he speak.

"I can accept that," he said quietly. He stood there for another minute before turning abruptly and walking out of the bullpen with his head held high. Silence fell over the entire room like a blanket before Alex turned and followed him, and Carolyn headed out close behind her. Mike paused for a moment longer, fixing Harris with a hard stare before going after his friends. Deakins waited until they were gone before looking back at Harris.

"That's the best you'll ever get from him. Don't expect anything more."

"I won't," Harris murmured as he followed Deakins into the captain's office, still acutely conscious of the hostile stares from the rest of the squad. "And believe me, I'm grateful for even that much."

* * *

"Can you really?"

Bobby glanced down at Alex as the four friends rode down in the elevator.

"Can I really what?"

"Accept what Harris told you. Can you really accept it?"

He sighed softly in response.

"I can, if only because I know I might have done the same thing if I'd been in his position. I can't take the moral high ground, not when I know what the reality is. And… he was telling the truth. The captain knew about his sister… knew that she was institutionalised… so that part wasn't made up. And, I don't believe he would use her as an excuse like that unless it's what really happened, anymore than I'd use my mom."

"Well, you're a bigger person than any of us, Bobby," Mike commented wryly. "I'm telling you, I'd happily do another ten years on Staten Island for a chance at punching _him_ out."

Bobby smiled faintly.

"I'd prefer that you didn't. I know I have a lot of people willing to support me, but you guys are my best friends. I… I need my friends here. I need _you_ here. Not banished to Staten Island."

"Bobby, that is probably the nicest thing anyone's said to me for a long time," Mike admitted in a subdued voice.

Standing beside each other, Alex and Carolyn exchanged amused grins at the emotion in Mike's voice.

"Would you two like to be left alone?" Carolyn teased, and yelped a moment later when Mike slipped his arms around her and yanked her backwards so that she fell into him.

"Thanks for the offer, gorgeous, but if I get to have alone time with anyone, I'd rather it be you."

Carolyn grinned up at him.

"You're learning, Logan."

"Hey, who said you can't teach an old dog new tricks?" He promptly fired a look at Alex, whose mouth was half open, ready to fire a snark in his direction. "Don't even think about it, Eames. I'll sic your boyfriend onto you."

The smirk on Alex's face melted away as she looked up at Bobby, who was grinning openly at their antics.

"Anytime, Logan," she said as she got a beautiful, warm smile from Bobby in return. "Anytime."

* * *

_A Week Later_

"So, how are you feeling now?"

Bobby's head turned, and a weary smile touched his lips. It was two days after the surgery on his shoulder, and the evening after his first physio session. Though there were no more apparent barriers to his returning home to his own apartment, it seemed that he was in no hurry to do so, and the Eames family were in no hurry to see him go. There had been a token argument on his part that he was stretching the bounds of their hospitality, but Helen Eames had ended up having the last word when she pointed out that he would not get reasonable use of his right arm back for at least a month after the surgery, and she was not going to have him going home, only to slip in the shower and not be able to get back up again. He was going to come home to them to recover properly from the surgery, where he could be properly looked after. Then, and only then, would it be acceptable for him to go home.

Bobby had ceased arguing at that point, much to everyone's satisfaction.

"Tired," he admitted finally as Alex came into the bedroom and sat down beside him on the bed. "Good… but tired. I have to admit, I'm kind of glad to be here, and not at home by myself."

Alex smiled.

"You wouldn't have been, but I'm glad, too. I know you've got someone to look after you while I'm at work."

"I'll be able to join you soon," Bobby reminded her. "The specialist said I can start on light duties next week, as long as I'm careful not to overdo it."

"You're really looking forward to that, aren't you?" she asked with a wry smile. "You do realise it's going to be primarily paperwork?"

Bobby chuckled.

"At this stage, I'd even welcome that. I need to be back there, Alex."

She leaned down to kiss him gently.

"I know you do."

For a while, silence reigned as Alex's fingers played lightly over his greying hair. Bobby visibly relaxed under her gentle touch, and his eyes fluttered closed as he enjoyed the attention.

"How are you really feeling?" Alex asked finally as she lay down beside him. Bobby smiled, knowing then that she was not referring to his physical wellbeing.

"I feel… happy," he admitted. "And… safe. I don't know for sure if the Centre will leave me alone, but we sent them a pretty strong message. And besides… it was Raines who really wanted me back, and he's dead."

Alex nodded in agreement.

"Yes," she murmured, not even attempting to conceal her relief. "He is."

A smile quirked her lips as her memories took her back to approximately a week after the failed Centre ambush at the café. Raines' and Lyle's bodies had been put on ice at the morgue, and left there. Deakins had apparently considered cremating their bodies, only to decide that the corpses would serve them better in one piece.

His decision was vindicated when a formal delegation from the Centre turned up at One Police Plaza three days after the shooting. Alex remembered vividly her, Mike's and Carolyn's collective shock when a man that they recognised from Bobby's sim discs as Mr Parker was escorted into the bullpen, and across the floor to Deakins' office. In what had been a defiant act of disrespect on Deakins' part, the captain had met him at the door and refused to allow him past the threshold into the moderate privacy of his office.

* * *

"_Holy fucking shit_..._"_

_Alex looked up from her paperwork in surprise at Mike's vehement expletive, and a bemused smile touched her lips. _

"_Did you screw up the T-13 form again, Mike?"_

_He shook his head, and though his head was still down, his eyes were glued to someone, or something, beyond all their desks. _

"_Correct me if I'm wrong," he hissed, "but isn't that the son of a bitch that Bobby said ran the Centre when he was there as a kid?"_

_Alex looked around sharply, and sure enough, the man whose image had caused Bobby nearly as many nightmares as Raines and Lyle was walking through the bullpen towards Deakins' office. _

"_Yes, that's him," she confirmed._

"_Thank God Bobby isn't here," Carolyn murmured. Alex's hand strayed to her gun as she watched the unfolding scenario, and a tight smile met her lips when Deakins appeared, physically blocking the doorway and refusing Parker entry._

"_Aren't you going to let me in?" Parker demanded. Deakins didn't flinch at the other man's outraged manner._

"_I prefer to keep my office for welcome visitors," Deakins replied coldly. "What do you want?"_

_For a moment, Parker appeared flustered. It was painfully obvious that he was not used to being treated so abruptly. Finally, though, he stammered out the reason he was there._

"_I'm here for the bodies of my son and my brother. They were murdered by the police a week ago."_

_Deakins raised an eyebrow._

"_My Lyle? Mr Raines?"_

"_Yes, that's right."_

"_They were not murdered," Deakins responded calmly. "They were shot by officers who were acting to defend the life of a fellow officer."_

"_Is that what you're calling it," Parker snorted. "We'll see about that."_

"_If you're here for the bodies," Deakins told him firmly, "then you'll be escorted down to the morgue to claim them officially. Then, you can leave."_

"_Not before I see him," Parker said suddenly. Deakins' expression turned downright dangerous. He needed no help to know that Parker was talking about Bobby._

"_No."_

_Parker raised and eyebrow._

"_You think you can stop me?"_

"_I know I can," Deakins snarled, his anger starting to show in the way he clenched his fists, and his face had gone white with barely suppressed rage. "The question is, do you really want to try?"_

_Parker hesitated noticeably, faltering in the face of the captain's anger. Deakins took advantage of the other man's sudden uncertainty, and spoke in a voice that was laced with fury._

"_You don't get to see him now, or ever again, do you hear me? You will never, ever come near him again. Not you, nor anyone else from the Centre, and that is final."_

"_We own him_…_" Parker started to argue, only to step back in visible fright when Deakins abruptly advanced on him. _

"_You don't own him. You never owned him. You will never own him! He is a free man, and you and your filth are never going to interfere in his life again! Do you understand me? And before you think about arguing further, I suggest you go down and identify the remains of your son and your brother, and take a good look at what their obsession cost them. Then, when you've done that, Mr Parker, you get the hell out of this building, and out of this city, and never show your face here again."_

* * *

It had been hard to know at the time which garnered more shock – the fact that someone was daring to threaten him openly, or the fact that his name was known to them. The former director of the Centre had literally fled, then, not game to stay and risk his own skin.

Deakins had waited only until Parker had been escorted out of the bullpen before turning to storm back into his office, but he'd not been quite quick enough to avoid the cheer that went up from the detectives on the floor. Two days later, a letter arrived for Bobby, care of Deakins at One Police Plaza. Deakins had called her, Mike and Carolyn into his office, closed the door and read it to them. It had been short, and very sweet to all their ears.

_Dear Mr Goren, we wish to inform you that the Centre has terminated its interest in you.  
Regards, Management._

Deakins had sent the letter home with Alex, so that Bobby to see it for himself. His immediate reaction had been somewhat subdued, but that same night Bobby had enjoyed his most peaceful night since returning home to New York, with his sleep disturbed only briefly by a nightmare that was easily cleansed from his thoughts.

The very next day he'd gone to his physiotherapy session with what his physio had later enthusiastically described to John Eames as a 'winner's attitude'.

He was getting better, Alex reflected happily as she cuddled in against him. He was getting better every day in his physical, mental and emotional wellbeing. Next week he would return to One Police Plaza to work, and even though it was only desk duty, she could feel the enthusiasm radiating off him like heat. It was an enthusiasm that easily spilled over to her. She couldn't wait to be able to look up from her desk, and see him sitting there once more. It had been far, far too long since that sight had met her in the squad room.

"You look pretty comfortable there," a voice said softly, and she glanced around to see her father standing there in the doorway, watching them bemusedly. Alex smiled faintly.

"I am, actually. Why? Am I supposed to jump up and act all guilty, even though technically we haven't done anything?"

John ventured slowly into the room, peering at Bobby through the dim light. Bobby appeared to have fallen asleep, cuddled in against Alex. He had to admit, they looked right together.

"No," he murmured. "It's okay, hon. You two… You're good for each other. I'm okay with it."

Alex looked back to Bobby with a loving gaze, taking in his peaceful countenance with satisfaction.

"It's not a fly-by-night thing, Dad," she whispered. "We really do love each other."

John shifted uncomfortably.

"I know that. I can see it. I just don't want you to get hurt, Lexie. Either of you. You've both had more hurt than anyone should reasonably have to bear."

"We're not going to hurt each other, Dad."

John regarded her sadly.

"That's easy enough to say now."

Alex frowned in mild irritation.

"Can we not do this now? We're going to wake him up."

John stood there indecisively for nearly a minute before conceding and retreating silently from the room. Minutes slid by, and Alex was just starting to drift off to sleep when a new voice spoke in a soft whisper.

"He's not trying to upset you, you know. He just wants to know that you're okay."

Alex smiled wryly.

"I thought you were asleep. Faker."

She felt a ripple of laughter pass through them both as he chuckled softly.

"I almost was."

Alex sighed and turned in to him, hugging him fiercely.

"I know Dad means well. Problem is… He and Mom are starting to see you as one of their own kids."

Bobby chuckled again.

"That could raise some interesting discussions."

"Exactly. They're starting to get just a little freaked out. I swear, I feel like a teenager again, with Dad going all protective every time the subject of boys comes up."

That time, the laughter that came from Bobby was full and rich, and the sound sent waves of warmth through her.

"Seriously," he murmured, his lips brushing her temple lightly. "Do you think that maybe it's time I went home?"

Stretching up, Alex pressed a tender kiss to his cheek.

"No. I think it's time _we_ went home."

He glanced down at her quizzically.

"T… Together? Us?"

"Yes. Us. Together."

He fell quiet, and she suddenly wondered if she was pushing for too much, too soon.

"Bobby?"

Silence. Her heart in her throat, Alex propped herself up on her elbow so that she could see him properly.

"Bobby, please… Talk to me? If I've said the wrong thing… If you're not ready…"

She gasped a little as he slipped an arm around her waist and pulled her firmly down on top of him, not letting go even when he grunted softly in pain as she bumped his shoulder accidentally. Then, his lips were on hers, effectively silencing her.

When he finally broke off the kiss, she opened her eyes again and found herself staring into a pair of warm brown eyes that were alive with a mixture of love and mirth.

"Your place, or mine?"

* * *

_tbc..._


	41. Finding Closure

A/N: _Unless the muse pulls a fast one, I believe this is the penultimate chapter, and what a marathon effort it's been. Hope everyone's enjoyed reading it as much as I've enjoyed writing it. _

* * *

_Approx. a week later_

"How is he doing?"

Mike's head came up at the captain's murmured query, and then he glanced across to where Bobby was bent over a not insubstantial pile of paperwork. It was the same pile of forms that they had needed to fill out on their return to work nearly a month previous, but Bobby was ploughing through them with an almost unnatural enthusiasm.

"He's doing okay," Mike answered quietly. "He's just glad to be back, you know? That's a really big thing, considering for a while there none of us knew for sure if he'd be able to come back."

"I know," Deakins agreed. "I just don't want to see him push himself beyond his limits."

"I wouldn't worry about that," Carolyn spoke up from where she sat opposite Mike. "Alex won't let that happen. She's been keeping a pretty close eye on him all morning."

"Don't forget, the three of you have to leave to be in court soon," Deakins reminded them. "I don't think Bobby needs to go with you."

"Captain, the whole squad is looking out for him now," Mike pointed out quietly. "He's okay."

Deakins observed Bobby in silence for a long moment before conceding with a nod and heading back into his office.

* * *

Half an hour after Mike, Alex and Carolyn had left for the courts, Deakins wandered into the break room to find Bobby there, grimacing at the coffee that he'd just poured for himself.

"You'd forgotten how bad that was, hadn't you?" Deakins asked with a wry grin. Bobby coughed, and set the mug down.

"Repressed is more like it. I really don't remember it being that bad."

Deakins paused, eyeing Bobby thoughtfully for a moment. It had occurred to him that in the entire time since Bobby's rescue, he hadn't had that many opportunities to talk to Bobby one-on-one. That opportunity was presenting itself now, and he wasn't going to pass it up.

"Grab your coat," Deakins told him suddenly. "Forget about that sludge. We'll go out and get some decent coffee."

It was, the captain thought, a sign that there still remained some remnants of the Centre's influence that Bobby never argued, but simply did as Deakins told him. He watched as Bobby collected his coat from the coat stand near his desk, and then the two men headed out together.

* * *

"What did you want to ask?" Bobby asked abruptly, once they were comfortably seated in Deakins' favourite café a block and a half away from One Police Plaza. Deakins regarded him with a raised eyebrow.

"You're assuming I had something to ask?"

To his quiet relief, Bobby didn't look away this time when he made eye contact, but rather continued to hold his gaze.

"We… We haven't really talked," Bobby murmured. "Not properly. Not just the two of us. I figured you wanted to talk about something… or ask me something."

Deakins turned his attention to stirring his coffee.

"We haven't had a lot of opportunities to talk," he agreed. "But if you don't want to now, I'll understand."

The faintest of sighs escaped Bobby at his words. He _did_ want to talk, but he was at a loss for how to begin.

"Can… Can I ask you something?"

"Of course," Deakins assured him. "What's on your mind?"

"Do… Do you regret it?"

The captain paused, eyeing Bobby quizzically.

"I'm sorry, Bobby. I don't understand what you mean. Do I regret what?"

"All of it," Bobby whispered. "What you gave up… to save me… Everything you went through… Everything you're still going through…"

It was with some effort that Deakins didn't laugh.

"What _I'm_ going through? Bobby, do you realise how ludicrous that sounds?"

Bobby, however, didn't flinch.

"You killed a man for me," he pointed out softly. "You… You killed Raines for me."

"And you want to know how I'm dealing with it?"

"Yes. If… you don't want to talk about it…"

Again, Deakins had a hard time containing a sardonic laugh.

"No," he assured the younger man. "No, it's okay. The truth is, Bobby, I'd be lying if I said it hadn't affected me. But it's something that I can live with." He paused, and then added in a low tone, "And regardless of what we all discussed before the fact, the bottom line is that it ended up being a clear case of self-defence."

Bobby nodded.

"I know. I… I'm glad for that, for both you and Alex."

"As for the rest," Deakins went on, "I don't regret any of it, and given the choice I'd do it all again without hesitation. That's how much we care about you, Bobby."

Beyond the red flush of embarrassment, Deakins had no difficulties seeing the heartfelt gratitude in the other man's eyes.

"Is that what you've been worried the most about?" Deakins wondered, and Bobby gave a lop-sided shrug.

"There are other things. Mostly memories… I'm just trying to take it one step at a time… One day at a time."

"That's the way to do it," Deakins agreed. "And you know you have all our support."

Silence fell, and for the next few minutes Deakins watched Bobby surreptitiously as they sipped at their coffee. It was remarkable, how far Bobby had come in so short a time, considering how severe his emotional, mental and physical trauma had been. Of course, there were still those signs of trauma, visible to anyone who knew what to look for, but for the most part he had recovered impressively.

In what had been a very important step for him, Bobby had finally gone home to his own apartment on the Saturday just gone – the final step in reclaiming his independence, Deakins had thought proudly at the time. He pointedly ignored the fact that Alex had moved there with him, and that they had very obviously chosen to live together. As far as he was concerned, what he didn't know he didn't have to explain to the brass.

"What _did_ you want to ask?" Bobby asked suddenly, breaking the silence that had descended like a blanket.

Deakins regarded him bemusedly.

"You're not one to quit, are you?"

At that, Bobby blushed noticeably.

"I… I mean… Sorry…"

"Don't," Deakins chided him gently. "Don't apologise."

He sighed faintly.

"Everyone keeps telling me that."

"Maybe then you should start accepting it. You don't have anything to be sorry for. You know, I really admire you, Bobby."

Bobby's eyes flickered upwards to meet the captain's gaze.

"Me? Why?"

"Because you survived that place not once, but twice. That's something to be proud of. You didn't lose your identity to them, Bobby. If anything, what you've been through should only have strengthened that in you."

"It did," Bobby confirmed with a quiet surety. "There were times… even before all this happened… that I doubted who I really was. But this made me face myself. Because… if I couldn't accept my identity as Bobby Goren… NYPD detective… then I had nothing. I wasn't prepared to lose everything to them. I thought I had for a while, but you… and Alex… and Mike and Carolyn… all of you… saved me from that."

"It was a team effort," Deakins agreed, "but we wouldn't have had any success if you hadn't had the courage to fight. Ultimately, it was up to you, Bobby. You're the one who had to fight, and you did. And I am incredibly proud of you for that."

Suddenly self-conscious, Bobby rubbed fiercely at his eyes, and abruptly turned his attention back to his coffee. Deakins watched him thoughtfully for a few minutes before speaking again.

"There is something I wanted to ask you."

"What?"

"About that night… The night we rescued you from the Centre."

Bobby went very still all of a sudden, his gaze fixed on his hands as they clutched the coffee mug.

"Wh… What about it?"

"How much of that night do you remember?"

Slowly, Bobby looked up at Deakins, and it was all the captain could do not to wince at the pain that was reflected in those brown eyes.

"I'm sorry," he said quickly, gently. "That was overstepping the boundaries. You don't have to answer if you don't want to."

"No," Bobby whispered, struggling to regain some composure. "No, it's okay. You… You have every right to ask that. The truth is… I don't remember a lot. Most of it's just a blur at best. I… I remember being in that little room. Raines left me in there for most of the time in the end, and whenever that door opened, I knew something bad would happen to me. When… When it opened that night, I was expecting Raines, or Lyle. But, it wasn't either of them. It…" He looked up at Deakins, a look of wonder on his face as the pieces slowly began to meld together. "It was you. You were there… but I didn't recognise you at first. I didn't know who you were…"

"It had been nine months," Deakins reminded him gently in an effort to ease Bobby's embarrassment at that admission. "It wasn't surprising."

"I remember you helped me to get up… Then, the next thing I remember, someone was trying to put something on me… a top, or something?"

"Carolyn was trying to put a sweater on you," Deakins confirmed. "It was cold outside. We didn't need you getting pneumonia on top of everything else."

Bobby's forehead creased slightly in a frown.

"I… I don't remember Carolyn."

Deakins watched him curiously.

"Who _do_ you remember?"

Again, Bobby's face went red.

"Miss Parker."

Deakins had to smile at that.

"Yes," he confirmed quietly, not missing the relief that lit up Bobby's face briefly. "She was there, Bobby. As much as I hate to admit it, if it hadn't been for her, we may not have found you in time… or at all. When you weren't where we expected you to be, none of us knew what to do. Then she turned up, and she took us straight to you. It was because of her that we were able to get you out." He paused, considering his next thoughts before speaking again. "You didn't panic when she approached you. When we got you out of that room, you were one step short of an outright panic attack, but you didn't panic when she approached you. Why was that?"

Again, Bobby fell quiet as he contemplated what to say. So far, only two people really knew the extent to which Miss Parker had helped him – Alex and George Huang. He'd confided a little in John Eames, but it was Alex and George who knew the truth. In all honesty, he just wasn't sure how much he felt comfortable telling the captain, knowing full well that she was at least partially responsible for him being taken to begin with.

It was something he'd been conflicted over since even before his rescue, that someone who seemed to have no scruples in stripping his freedom from him could then have put herself so openly at risk by constantly defending him. He'd taken so long in talking to George and Alex about it simply because he doubted they would be able to understand, when he himself did not. He still didn't really understand her motives, but eventually he'd come to accept what she'd done for him at face value. He had no other choice.

"She… helped me… while I was in there," Bobby explained softly, his eyes flickering constantly to Deakins, as though trying to gauge his reaction. "I know it might sound hard to believe, but that time when I nearly drowned in the focus chamber… That was only one of many times when she stepped in to help me. She saved me from Raines and Lyle a lot of times. She… She protected me."

"It doesn't sound so impossible," Deakins murmured. "I figured there had to be something positive, because as I said, you didn't panic when she approached you. And every time you were able to talk about those people in front of us, the hatred that you obviously had for Raines, Lyle and Sydney practically evaporated when Miss Parker's name came up."

"She helped me survive that place," Bobby said softly, "in more ways than one."

"Do you think you might ever see her again?" Deakins wondered, and Bobby shifted uncomfortably.

"I… I don't know…"

"Do you _want_ to see her again?"

Deakins was quietly amused to see that Bobby's incessant restlessness seemed to settle at that question, and a contemplative look stole over his face.

"I don't know. Part of me hopes yes… but another part hopes no. It… It's hard to explain."

"Oh, I don't know about that," Deakins told him. "I think you're doing a pretty good job."

Bobby stared down into the last dregs of his coffee.

"Can… Can I ask you something?"

"Sure," Deakins answered, intrigued. "What is it?"

"Could you tell me… about the rescue? No one else seems to want to talk to me about it. It… It's like they're worried it'll traumatise me all over again, or something like that."

It took Deakins nearly a minute to find his voice, and when he did, he responded by draining the last of his coffee and getting up.

"Let's go somewhere else."

Bobby nodded his consent, and followed him from the café.

* * *

"Is there something in particular you wanted to know about?" Deakins asked twenty minutes later when they found a seat in Central Park, in sight of the lake. Bobby hesitated in responding.

"Who organised it?"

Deakins spared Bobby a thoughtful glance. He wondered if, even now, Bobby still had some doubts about how committed Jarod had been to his rescue. After all, while Bobby had been a prisoner of the Centre, Jarod had been effectively a free man. He hoped he'd be able to put those doubts to rest once and for all.

"Jarod was primarily responsible. He pulled in a big favour with someone who he'd previously helped. A Navy Seal Commander, as a matter of fact. Commander Dan Ellis, his name is. _He_ put together a team with the specific purpose of rescuing you, and we made up the numbers."

"You mean you, Alex, Mike and Carolyn?"

"Yes, but also Jackson, King and Oliver from our squad, and Elliot Stabler, Olivia Benson, John Munch and Fin Tutuola from SVU. You probably don't remember, but Fin was there when we got to you. He helped me to get you on your feet and out of that little room."

Bobby's forehead creased in a slight frown, and Deakins patted him reassuringly on the shoulder.

"Don't try to force yourself to remember. It really doesn't matter.

"But… It matters to me," Bobby stammered, and that brought Deakins up short.

"You really need to know what happened, don't you?"

"Yes," Bobby answered simply, and Deakins nodded in acquiescence.

"All right, then. I suppose you could say things really started happening when I got a phone call about a week before it all went down…"

* * *

It took Deakins the next two and a half hours to tell Bobby the complete story of the rescue, the tale drawn out by the many questions that Bobby asked. By the time he was done telling the story, though, Bobby had gone very quiet.

"What are you thinking?" Deakins asked softly. "Talk to me, Bobby."

"I… I was thinking… So many people risked so much for me. I… I didn't realise…"

"We care about you," Deakins assured him quietly. "That might not seem so simple and straight-forward to you, but it is to us. You were worth the risk."

That legendary fidgetiness was coming back with a vengeance, Deakins mused as Bobby suddenly stood up and began to pace back and forth in front of the bench.

"I owe so many people," he burst out suddenly, startling the captain. "I owe so many people so much… and… I don't even know where to begin to start…"

"Bobby," Deakins said loudly, watching with concern as the other man's agitation levels suddenly seemed to sky-rocket. "Bobby! Stop! Just stop!"

Bobby ceased his pacing so abruptly that it made Deakins' head spin. He seemed to freeze on the spot, and his breath came in rapid gasps. Deakins was momentarily confused, and more than a little frightened. He had only raised his voice in order to get him to stop and calm down. He hadn't anticipated this panicked reaction.

"Bobby? Can you hear me?" he asked in a deliberately low voice as he got to his feet. "Look at me, Detective Goren."

Slowly, Bobby's eyes came around to meet Deakins'. The captain went on once he was sure he had Bobby's attention.

"Listen to me, Detective. We are not in the Centre. We're in Central Park, in New York, and I want you to take a deep breath and relax."

For a painfully long moment, Deakins thought he wasn't going to be able to get through to him. But then, suddenly, Bobby let his breath out in a long hiss. He shuddered, and his knees suddenly buckled beneath him. Deakins almost dove forward, catching Bobby as he collapsed, and the two men went down to together.

"Sorry…" Bobby whispered in a barely audible voice. "I'm sorry…"

"No," Deakins murmured, putting his arms around the younger man's trembling shoulders without hesitation or embarrassment. "Don't apologise."

"Hey, everything okay here?"

Deakins looked up to see a jogger had paused in his run, and was watching them with concern. He nodded, offering the stranger what he hoped was a reassuring smile, at the same time resisting the urge to pull out his badge.

"We're fine. Thankyou. My friend just needs a minute."

The jogger went on his way, and Deakins turned his attention to getting Bobby up off the ground and back onto the park bench.

"Easy," he murmured, grunting a little as he struggled to lift Bobby off the ground. Shuddering, Bobby slumped over on the bench. Deakins watched him in silent concern, wanting to be certain that the panic had fully subsided before daring to speak again. He knew he'd said or done something wrong – he just didn't know what.

"I'm sorry, Bobby. I wasn't thinking. I didn't mean to…"

"Not your fault," Bobby whispered. "Just… remnants."

"What do you mean, remnants?"

"Remnants of the… the Centre's conditioning," Bobby explained softly, tremulously. "It's what George called it. He said it might happen, that certain words or phrases… or even a certain tone of voice… might trigger an involuntary reaction."

"Which was it this time?" Deakins asked, anxious for some insight that might help him prevent it from happening again. "Do you know?"

There was silence while Bobby thought it over, and Deakins knew he'd found an answer when he stiffened noticeably, and then winced at what the captain guessed were some painfully vivid memories.

"It… It was sort of a combination. The word 'stop'… and used like that… shouted at me… That was how Raines put an end to his simulations. I had to learn to totally stop when he ordered me to. Not… Not just physically, but mentally as well. He expected me to virtually just shut my mind down when he ordered me to, and not keep thinking about what I was doing. I'd be beaten if I didn't. But, it wasn't as simple as that. When… when you do a pretend, it's not just play-acting. You _become_ someone else. You take on someone else's life. And, once you do, it isn't just a matter of shaking it off. You remember what it was like before, when I'd get inside the head of a perp."

Deakins nodded in grim silence. Yes, he remembered only too well how deeply Bobby often got into the heads of the criminals, and how difficult a process it had sometimes been for Bobby to work his way back out again. It had never been a simple case of stopping when someone else said so. Sometimes, he recalled, it had taken Bobby days to break the connection he'd created.

Seeing that Deakins remembered, and knew what he meant, Bobby went on shakily.

"That's what Raines expected me to do. Just stop…" He snapped his fingers lightly. "Like that. Just switch off so I could jump straight into the next simulation. I trained myself to stop, but… it hurt. It physically hurt to do it. I had so many migraines. Sometimes, my head hurt so badly from it that I'd refuse to cooperate, just in the hope that they'd beat me unconscious. It… It was the only relief I got."

Deakins groaned softly in sympathy pain at Bobby's horrendous descriptions.

"God almighty… Bobby, I am sorry. I promise I'll try to be careful in the future."

Bobby spared his captain a weak smile.

"Like I said… not your fault. I don't even know what might be a trigger. All I can do is to try and deal with it as best as I can, when it happens."

"Just remember that you don't have to deal with it on your own," Deakins reminded him, and Bobby smiled wearily at that.

"Believe me, I know. Alex won't let me forget it. I… I suppose we should head back. We've been gone a while now."

Deakins' smile widened at that.

"Oh, I don't know. Just between us, I'm enjoying the quiet. Unless you're in a hurry to get back?"

Bobby was mildly surprised to discover that no, he wasn't in any particular hurry to return to One Police Plaza.

"Alex will throttle me," he commented as he settled back on the bench. He could feel himself slowly relaxing as the sun broke through the clouds and took some of the chill out of the air.

"No, she won't," Deakins said confidently. "She'll throttle _me_. So let's enjoy the freedom while it lasts."

Bobby chuckled softly, and consented with nod.

"Okay."

* * *

Jackson saw Bobby and the captain go, and was amused more than anything when they still hadn't returned three hours later. He would have been concerned, but for a brief text message from Deakins that had come through to his cell phone not quite forty-five minutes after they'd gone.

_Gone to Central Park. Tell Eames not to panic._

The message had elicited a chuckle. There was nothing about what to tell the Chief of D's, or the Commissioner or any of the brass if they came looking for him; just a message to tell Alex not to panic. Such a short message, and yet it spoke in volumes.

Therefore, when Alex walked back into the bullpen two hours later with Mike and Carolyn, Jackson was quickly able to allay her fears at finding Bobby gone. From that point on, as the afternoon wore on and still the captain and the detective didn't return, Alex's prime emotion was irritation rather than fear. So, by the time the phone on Bobby's desk began to ring just after four-thirty, Alex's mood had seriously plummeted. She was just considering whether to completely ignore it when he and the captain finally reappeared. Her attention was drawn immediately to the steaming cup of fresh coffee that he held in his good hand, and the muffin bag that he carried gingerly in his other, partially restrained hand, and her irritation at him melted. Favouring him with a warm smile, she got up and walked around to her partner's side of their conjoined desks, and picked up his phone.

* * *

"You were right," Deakins murmured in amusement as they both watched the aggravation on Alex's face fade at the sight of the coffee and muffin bag. "Libations _do_ soothe the wild beast."

Bobby grinned.

"I may have forgotten a lot of things, but one thing I will never forget is that specialty coffee with four or five teaspoons of sugar is more effective than a bullet proof vest when my partner is pissed."

Deakins laughed and waved Bobby off, and then detoured past Mike and Carolyn.

"You two, my office. I want an update on the Tribecki case."

Exchanging rueful grins, the two detectives dutifully followed their captain into his office, closing the door behind them. Bobby watched them go, and then turned his attention back to his partner.

* * *

Alex picked up the phone and spoke absently, her attention more on the approaching coffee than whoever was on the other end.

"Detective Eames."

Silence. Alex frowned, wondering if it was a crank call. She was about to hang up when a vaguely familiar voice spoke.

"_I want to speak to Detective Goren_."

Alex blinked at the arrogance that radiated through the phone. No 'please', not so much as a question. It was a demand, not a request.

"Who is this?" Alex asked, frowning darkly.

"_Put Detective Goren on the phone **now**_."

Alex was on the verge of hanging up anyway when Bobby finally arrived back at their desks and set down the coffee and muffin. He paused, taking in Alex's newly irritated expression, and spoke in amusement.

"Alex? Who is it?"

"She won't say," Alex growled, covering the mouthpiece. "Whoever it is, she wants to speak to you, _now_."

Bemused, Bobby took the phone from her.

"This is Detective Goren."

There was a heartbeat of silence before the voice spoke again.

"_Hello, Bobby_."

Bobby froze, his breath catching in his throat. There was no mistaking _that_ voice.

"Miss Parker…"

Alex went rigid beside him, and then made a grab at the phone. Bobby was too quick and agile for her, though, even with one arm immobilised. He twisted away from her, keeping the phone out of her reach.

"_It's good to hear your voice_," Miss Parker told him quietly. "_You sound good, Bobby_."

"What did you want?" he asked, but though his words were abrupt, his tone was not. She wasted no time in replying.

"_I want to see you_."

Somehow, he wasn't surprised, though he did feel a certain amount of bemusement at the timing of her call. Also, while he felt a sharp pang of fear at the thought of facing anyone at all from the Centre… even with Raines and Lyle gone… at the same time he couldn't help feeling curious. Even though he was still wary of the possibility of a trap, instinct told him that was not the case this time.

All the same, he had no intention of putting himself at risk, and he knew damned well that Alex would have killed him herself if he did.

"Somewhere public," he said quietly, acutely aware of the death glare that Alex was giving him. "I'll meet with you, but it has to be somewhere open where there are a lot of people around."

"_Outside the public library_," she suggested, and Bobby nodded approvingly.

"Good enough. But I'll warn you now, I won't be coming alone."

"_I expected as much_." She sounded amused, he thought with some wryness.

"In half an hour?" he suggested.

"_I'll be there_."

The line then very abruptly cut out. Bobby let his breath out in a rush as he dropped the phone back into its cradle, and he turned around slowly to find himself staring into Alex's furious expression. It was amazing, he thought detachedly, how fast her anger could manifest.

"I can't believe it!" she exploded. "I can't believe _you_! You actually agreed to meet that woman? Are you out of your mind?"

"Look, I know you don't agree," he started to argue, but she cut him off with almost painful abruptness.

"Damn right I don't agree! Even if it's not a trap…"

She was silenced very abruptly when he pressed a finger gently to her lips.

"Alex, please," he said softly, "will you at least let me try to explain?"

She fell quiet then, frowning deeply but still willing to hear him out all the same. He went on softly, once he was sure she would listen.

"You… You know what Miss Parker did for me while I was in that place…"

"I know she was responsible for you ending up back there," Alex snapped.

"Alex, please…"

She huffed in irritation, but conceded.

"I need closure," Bobby went on quietly. "I need to close the book on this, as much as I possibly can. I… I know it's going to be with me for the rest of my life, but I don't want to live with that constant fear of what will happen if I run into someone from the Centre… someone like Miss Parker. I need to be able to face her now, before I lose my nerve."

"You don't have anything to prove, Bobby," Alex argued, but he shook his head.

"I do, though. I have something to prove to myself. I need to prove to myself that I can face my fears."

Try as she might, Alex could not dismiss his simple reasoning. Though Lyle and Raines were no longer a threat, she knew he was still tormented by the knowledge that other Centre operatives like Miss Parker were still out there. If confronting her now gave him some of that closure that he wanted so desperately, then who was she to argue?

"Please, Bobby," she told him softly, desperately. "Please, just tell me that you're not going to take stupid risks. You _know_ this could be a trap. That letter that came last week might just have been an attempt to get you to let your guard down."

"I know," he agreed. "That's why I want you to come with me."

She blinked, taken aback by his words.

"You… want me to…"

"I'm not an idiot, Alex," he told her gently. "I need to see her, but I won't take any chances. I won't go alone, and I told her that. You were standing right there when I told her that! I want Mike and Carolyn to come, as well. Captain Deakins too, if he'll come."

He could feel the relief radiating off Alex like heat as she realised he had no intention of hanging himself out as live bait in the same way that he'd done in order to trap Raines and Lyle. Smiling up at him, her anger completely gone, Alex took his hand to lead him to the captain's office, where their colleagues were still giving a current progress report.

"C'mon. Let's go ask them."

* * *

A half hour later, Bobby stood on the steps outside the New York Public Library, flanked by Deakins, Mike and Carolyn, and with Alex standing beside him. So far, there was no sign of Miss Parker, and the agitation levels of Bobby's companions were rapidly increasing.

"If she doesn't show in the next two minutes," Alex said tersely, "then we're out of here."

"She'll be here," Bobby murmured, raising both Alex's curiosity and annoyance with his quiet confidence.

"Bobby, we are not taking unnecessary risks. I know you want to do this. I understand why, and I support you. You _know_ that. But I find it hard to believe that that… that _woman_ would just call you out of the blue, for a chat!"

A sad smile flickered over Bobby's face, and he turned and wrapped his good arm around her in a fierce hug.

"I love you so much, Alex. And I understand that you want to protect me now, and I'm grateful for that. But you aren't always going to be able to do that. I have to do this now. You have to let me do this. Please… Just be patient."

Alex sighed and shut her eyes briefly, taking comfort in his sheer physical presence. She would have happily stayed like that, but for Mike coughing and speaking in a low voice.

"Heads up, guys. Here she comes."

Alex felt momentarily bereft as Bobby gently detached himself from her, only to be reassured when he bent down briefly to kiss her gently.

"Thankyou," he whispered. Then he left her standing there with the others while he walked forward to face Miss Parker.

* * *

"I thought you might have changed your mind," she commented dryly as he approached. Bobby shook his head.

"No. I needed to see you… to talk to you." He glanced back briefly over his shoulder. "They didn't want me to come. They thought this might be another ambush."

Parker laughed aloud at that.

"After what you did to Lyle and Raines? They're not that stupid. By the way, I'd like to say well done. In one fell swoop you did something that Jarod has never been able to do. You frightened off the Triumvirate. Lyle and Raines were their golden boys, and their deaths sent a shockwave through the Centre like nothing else, _ever_."

Bobby shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other.

"It was self defence," he murmured, but Parker smiled knowingly.

"Don't sell yourself short. I know they tried to use your brother to set you up, but you turned the tables on them. I was impressed when the new got back to me. And just between us, they're no great loss. You did a good thing there, believe me."

All of a sudden, Bobby felt somewhat unsteady on his feet. Without waiting for her, he sat down awkwardly on the concrete steps. After a moment, Miss Parker joined him.

"How's the shoulder?" she asked softly, genuine concern in her tone as she observed his immobilised arm.

"Healing. I had surgery on it last week. The doctor thinks I'll make a complete recovery."

"Good," Parker murmured. "That's good. I'm glad."

Silence fell between them – not quite comfortable, but nor was it exactly unpleasant. It was finally broken by Bobby.

"I need to know why."

She didn't bother asking what he meant. She already knew.

"It wasn't out of a guilty conscience, if that's what you're wondering," she told him bluntly. "I don't do guilty."

Bobby smiled wryly.

"I can believe that." He paused, and then added tentatively, "But you can do empathy."

She looked sideways at him, her expression inscrutable. When she did eventually speak, it was in a noticeably subdued tone.

"The first time I helped you, it was mainly to give Raines grief. But at the same time…" She paused, as though searching for the right words to say. Bobby found that mildly amusing. He recalled that she'd never been short on words before. "You were worth helping," she said finally, quietly. "What they did to you… Raines, Lyle and Sydney… was even worse in some ways than what was done to Jarod. I had my eyes opened very wide in those five or six years after Jarod escaped. He helped me learn things about the Centre that were beyond horrific."

"And yet you still work for them," Bobby pointed out. She offered no apology.

"It's the family business," she said with a slight shrug.

"And you want to inherit," Bobby said dryly. She smiled, taking his comment in good humour.

"Seriously, I tried to walk away from it once. The man I loved was murdered to keep that from happening."

Bobby grimaced a little.

"I'm sorry."

"So am I. There was a time where I worked for the Centre out of loyalty to my father, but somewhere along the line, that changed. At some point, my motives changed, and when the Director told us about the initiative to get you back, in Jarod's place, I decided the best thing I could do was to try and protect you within the Centre itself." She regarded him with visible regret. "I am sorry for the part I played in taking you back, but you need to understand that nothing would have prevented that from happening. I stayed involved to keep Lyle from killing anyone… namely, you."

"Don't ask me to thank you for that," Bobby whispered, and she shook her head.

"I wouldn't dream of it. Once you were back in the Centre, I did what I could to help you… for whatever good it did."

Bobby gazed at her wonderingly.

"You think I don't remember how you helped me?"

She returned his gaze with a curious one of her own.

"I would have thought you'd want to forget all of it as quickly as possible."

A bitter smile graced his pale features.

"I might want to. That doesn't mean that I can. But more than that… I shouldn't forget. Not again. I let myself forget what happened to me when I was a boy, and that was a mistake. It can't happen again. I need to remember."

"You have the sim discs," she pointed out. "Let them remember for you."

"I could do that," Bobby conceded, "but it's not that simple. I blocked out what happened to me when I was a kid, and the memories alone damn near killed me when they came back… and they always come back, eventually. I just can't let it be locked away inside my mind again. As bad as they are, it'd be worse to forget again."

Parker looked away from him, and her gaze when to his colleagues, who stood watchfully a short distance away.

"They've stuck by you," she commented, suddenly changing the subject. Bobby looked past her, and smiled.

"I know. I'm lucky to have them. I'd still be trapped in the Centre if it weren't for them."

Miss Parker regarded him in surprise, but didn't argue. Bobby, however, caught the look on her face before she could turn away from him again.

"You don't think that?" he asked, and she gave a small shrug.

"I don't know. I do think you're underestimating the number of people who were working to get you out of there, though."

"You mean you?"

She laughed softly at that.

"I'm not going to lie to you, Bobby. I had no intention of freeing you myself."

He paused, baffled by her blunt admission.

"But…"

"I know," she cut him off. "I led them to you that night, but that was sheer chance. It was an opportunity, and I took it. I won't say I'd do the same thing again, because if I'd known exactly what was going to happen, I can't say that I wouldn't have been down on SL26 helping to move you out of their reach. It was chance, nothing more." She paused, taking in his dismayed look, and then added gently, "On the other hand, I was also fed up with that smug look on my idiot brother's face."

Bobby laughed softly, then, knowing what she was talking about from Deakins' earlier telling of the story of his rescue.

"Captain Deakins told me that you locked him in my old room on SL12."

Miss Parker smirked faintly at that.

"Yes. He wasn't too happy with me over that. I thought it was a nice irony, though. It was a pity that someone let him out before the place blew up. We could have been rid of him _and_ Brigitte in one hit." She paused, the wistful look fading to become serious once more. "I wouldn't have gotten you out myself, though. Make no mistake about that, Bobby. I am not my mother. I don't have her courage… or her morals."

Bobby decided against arguing with her there, but the look on his face suggested strongly that he believed differently.

"So if you're not talking about yourself, then who…?"

She hesitated only a moment before answering.

"Sydney."

Bobby's reaction to that name was immediate, and unmistakable. His features clouded over, his brow creased into a deep frown and his entire body seemed to go rigid. Far from looking alarmed, though, Miss Parker seemed amused by his reaction.

"I'm guessing that you don't believe that."

"Why should I?" Bobby snapped angrily. "That son of a bitch was no better than Raines in the end. You know the things he did to me… the things he made me do. The… The focus chamber…"

He was becoming more agitated by the second. Miss Parker hesitated, and then laid her hand gently on his forearm. Though it did nothing to ease his growing agitation, it did at least bring his attention back to her.

"What?" he snarled furiously and, to her credit, she didn't flinch in the face of his anger.

"There's something about Sydney that you ought to know," she told him quietly.

"What, that he's a psychopath and a control freak?"

She smiled in open amusement at that.

"Control freak? Yes. Psychopath? No. That title belonged strictly to Raines and Lyle. No, Bobby, what I'm talking about is that he was actively planning to get you out of the Centre. He outlined to me what he was planning to do to get you out the night that Jarod and your friends came for you."

Slowly, Bobby quietened down, but his expression was still a mask of suspicion and disbelief.

"I don't believe it."

"Well, you'd better, because it's true. He was prepared to risk his own life to get you out, so how about you try to show just a little understanding?"

"Understanding," Bobby snorted derisively. "That fucking bastard betrayed me, and he nearly killed me. If it hadn't been for you and Angelo…"

He trailed off, fairly shaking with a mixture of rage and distress. Miss Parker watched him carefully, acutely aware that there seemed to be no appeasing his anger towards Sydney. He was not going to believe anything she tried to tell him of Sydney's plans to save him. It was time, she decided, to change the thread of their conversation.

"I didn't come alone either, Bobby."

He froze for just a split second, and then launched himself to his feet so fast that it nearly gave her whiplash.

"Alex was right. This was a trap…"

Irritation flitted across Miss Parker's face, and she stood up to face him head on.

"Don't be a moron. I'd expect that from Broots, not you. You know this isn't a trap. Besides anything else, I value my own life more than that."

Bobby stared at her warily, clearly teetering on the brink of wanting to bolt.

"Then who…? Please tell me you didn't bring Sydney."

"No, I didn't. As much as I like to see him occasionally knocked off his self-made pedestal, I don't particularly fancy seeing him shot dead. No, I brought someone else who was very eager to see you."

She turned a little, and Bobby followed her gaze until he sighted a familiar figure standing not too far away. His breath caught in his throat.

"Angelo…"

* * *

"What's he doing?" Mike wondered with a frown as Bobby suddenly walked away from Miss Parker, and from them.

"Don't you see?" Deakins asked with a small smile. "Over there, on the other side?"

Alex drew in a small gasp as she recognised the newcomer not from any sim discs that she'd watched, but rather from pictures that Bobby had drawn.

"It's Angelo," she whispered.

* * *

Bobby walked over to where Angelo waited, the savant watching him with an inscrutable expression. As the two men came face to face, a tiny smile quirked Angelo's lips.

"Free," he said simply, and Bobby nodded. All of a sudden, he was having a hard time focusing through the tears that had filled his eyes.

"Yes," he agreed. "I'm free."

As he said the words, the realisation finally hit that yes, he was indeed free. He shuddered briefly, and a moment later Angelo stepped in and pulled him into a fierce embrace. Bobby responded by wrapping his good arm around Angelo, hugging him back as much as he was able, and no longer trying to contain the tears, or the sobs that shook his body.

"Thankyou," he whispered hoarsely, his voice muffled slightly by Angelo's shoulder. "Thankyou so much, for everything."

* * *

Across the way, Carolyn smiled and spoke.

"Now _that_ was worth taking the chance of coming out here."

There was a murmur of agreement. Then, abruptly, Deakins left Alex, Mike and Carolyn to approach Miss Parker.

* * *

Miss Parker looked around calmly, showing no visible surprise as Deakins came to stand beside her.

"Captain," she greeted him dryly. "How's the head?"

He regarded her with some degree of bemusement.

"Fine, no thanks to you. That hit to the head could have killed me."

"A bullet from Lyle's gun _would _have. Believe me, I was doing you a favour."

Deakins grimaced at her concept of a favour.

"Excuse me if I don't say thankyou."

"Did you want something?" she asked tersely, and he nodded.

"Yes, actually. That is Angelo over there, isn't it?"

Miss Parker looked back to where Bobby and Angelo were still embracing, and Deakins was curious to see her expression soften almost to the point of tenderness.

"Yes," she confirmed quietly. "It is."

"Then please, tell me he's being looked after properly."

"Now that Raines is finally dead? Yes, he is. Like Bobby and Jarod, he's free as well now. Sydney is even trying to recreate a formula that will reverse his condition."

Deakins frowned at the mention of that name.

"Sydney again."

Miss Parker looked at him bemusedly.

"Yes. He's not the devil you all seem to think he is, you know."

"Maybe you can believe that," Deakins murmured. "But as long as he stays away from Bobby, we won't have a problem."

Miss Parker hesitated at that, drawing a suspicious look from Deakins.

"He's not going to stay away from Bobby, is he?"

"He will for now," she answered quietly, watching as Bobby and Angelo finally broke apart only to fall into a very animated conversation. It fascinated her to watch them, knowing as she did that Angelo had never exactly been one for a prolonged verbal exchange. "He's a shrink, though. Sooner or later, his curiosity _is_ going to get the better of him, and he'll try to make contact. I just hope Bobby will be ready for it when he does."

Deakins' expression hardened.

"I doubt he'll ever be ready for it."

Miss Parker had no chance to comment further, for Bobby and Angelo came over at that moment. Deakins noted that Bobby looked more settled than he had for some time, and he suspected strongly that it had less to do with his exchange with Miss Parker, than meeting with Angelo.

"It's time to head back," he said quietly, and Bobby nodded in agreement. He turned to Miss Parker, gratitude on his face.

"Thankyou," he said simply.

"You're welcome," she answered. "I'm glad I could at least do this for you."

Bobby hesitated, and then reached somewhat awkwardly into his jacket.

"I wanted to give something to you."

She watched as he withdrew a carefully folded sheet of paper, and held it out to her. She took it, and her breath caught as she opened it out to reveal a beautifully drawn picture of herself – not as an adult, but as a child wrapped up in the loving embrace of her mother. When she looked back up at Bobby, who was watching with the anxious expression of someone waiting for approval, her eyes were glistening with unshed tears.

Before she could think twice about it, Miss Parker stepped towards him and slipped her arms around him in a warm hug. Bobby held her tightly to him, just for a moment.

"Thankyou," he whispered into her ear. "And… you're more like your mother than you think."

Then he stepped back, and the connection was broken. With one last smile at Angelo, Bobby turned and walked away, back to where Alex, Mike and Carolyn waited. Deakins exchanged a long look with Miss Parker before nodding once, and following his detectives back to their vehicle.

Bobby paused just once to look back before getting back into the SUV, and a sad look passed fleetingly over his face.

Miss Parker and Angelo were gone.

* * *

_tbc..._


	42. Where He Belongs

**_A/N: Well, here we are at last. We've finally reached the last chapter of this very long journey, although it may not necessarily be the last we hear of Bobby in this particular little 'verse. I am planning to revisit him here, but it just won't happen immediately. I think we need to give him time to settle before throwing him back into chaos, don't you?_**

**_I want to thank my good friends bammi1 and Vikki for their constant support and prodding throughout this story. They helped shift me along when it felt like things were stalling, and I know I can rely on them both for inspiration when I next visit Bobby in this timeline. Until then, however, back to reality we go..._**

* * *

_A month and a half later _

Alex awoke late on Sunday morning, drawn back into awareness by the lack of a warm body beside her. She lay still for a few minutes, taking pleasure in the peace and quiet, in the warm bed and, most of all, in the extremely pleasurable memories from the night before.

Physically, Bobby was well and truly recovering from the injuries he'd incurred as a prisoner of the Centre, and she was reaping the full benefits. Emotionally, he was still finding his way, but the nightmares that had plagued him so severely to begin with finally seemed to be easing off. He still suffered them on regularly, but more often now he was enjoying nights that were undisturbed by dreams of any kind.

A smug smile graced her features. She took pride in the knowledge that he never suffered nightmares on the nights when they made love. She'd mentioned it once to him, and he had teasingly replied that it was because her insatiable appetite left him thoroughly exhausted. Her indignation had lasted only as long as it had taken him to chase her into the bedroom.

Sighing softly, Alex stretched languidly before reluctantly abandoning the warmth and comfort of the big bed. Tugging a robe around her body, she padded out into the kitchen to find Bobby.

He wasn't there, but there was evidence of his presence in a freshly brewed pot of coffee that awaited her on the bench. Smiling with a mixture of amusement and appreciation, Alex helped herself and was just sipping at the brew when she saw the note on the bench. Her smile widened, tempered with relief. He had taken to leaving little notes for her whenever he went off somewhere, just to reassure her that he was all right, and she greatly appreciated it.

They were all slowly coming to accept that he appeared to finally be out of danger, but remnants of fear still remained. Bobby himself was not quite prepared to completely relax his guard. Nor might he ever, as George Huang had suggested, and none of them were willing to tell Bobby that he should. Not when they themselves still remained subconsciously on watch.

Picking up the note, Alex unfolded it and read the two words printed neatly on the paper with a smile.

_Gone up_

It was all it said, but she knew exactly what he meant. Taking the coffee with her, she retreated back to the bedroom to shower and dress before heading out to join him.

* * *

Bobby stood on the roof of his apartment building, looking down at the city below. It was hardly one of the tallest buildings in the city, but it was still high enough to give him that sense of separation from the rest of the world. A wry smile touched his lips. Like he needed anymore sense of separation.

_Haven't you been separated long enough?_ a small voice whispered in his mind, but he ignored it. He'd already come to accept that he was a different man now, and in some ways he would always be separate from the world around him. It wasn't necessarily a choice that he made for himself as much as one that was forced on him by circumstance. He was as much a part of society as he had initially hoped to be, but it didn't phase him as much as he that once thought that it might. In truth, he'd known deep down for a while now that in some ways he would never really belong.

That was okay, though, he reflected. Nothing was ever meant to stay the same, and that was the case here. He'd changed, and the creature he had metamorphosed into was a unique one – one that had the ability to meld into any society, into any life, for as long as was necessary. And right here, right now, he chose this life.

_Nothing stays the same_…

That wasn't entirely true, he supposed. Some things were just as they had always been. If they were different, then it was only because they were a little better than before. That was especially true now of his ability to work a suspect in the interrogation room, and he smiled at the memories that thought invoked.

Four days ago, Mike and Carolyn had arrested a suspect over the murder of a young girl who was the god-daughter of the Commissioner. The man was smart, though, and was taking great joy in playing mind games with the detectives. Bobby had watched from the observation room, taking in everything about the man and absorbing everything he could from the case notes. When Mike and Carolyn had taken a break in sheer frustration, Bobby had asked to be allowed in to talk to him.

Deakins had allowed it, if somewhat reluctantly. Then the captain, Mike, Carolyn and Alex had all watched as Bobby walked in and set about systematically taking the suspect apart. He stripped away the killer's emotional layers one by one, and lay out his motives on the table until the man was reduced to a sobbing wreck. By the time a lawyer arrived, he was ready to make a full confession, and was begging them to lock him up for the good of society.

Bobby smiled faintly at the memory. He recalled them all watching him closely for the rest of the day… he supposed, for some sign of a possible break-down, but had they just asked he could have told them that it wouldn't happen. He had eventually admitted to Alex later on that he used his ability as a Pretender to not merely profile the killer, but to become him; and in becoming him he'd been able to see and understand what Mike and Carolyn could not. He had that edge, he used it and he didn't feel bad about it.

That, he reflected with some small pleasure, was a good thing. A very good thing.

He heard the rooftop door open behind him, and looked around to see Alex walking across the roof to join him.

"Good morning," he murmured, slipping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her in close.

"How long have you been up here?" she wondered.

"Not long. Maybe half an hour or so. You found the note?"

"And the coffee. Thankyou. Are you okay?"

His grip tightened on her just a fraction.

"Yeah," he murmured. "Just thinking."

"You like coming up here, don't you?" she asked, peering out over the streets below.

"Yeah. I do."

He didn't offer an explanation for this particular predilection, and she didn't ask for one. There were some things that he either couldn't explain to her, or simply didn't have it in him to explain. She trusted him to talk to her when he could, and patiently waited for him to do just that. If he wanted to eventually talk to her about this particular need that he had, then he would without her badgering him to do so.

"Tomorrow's the big day," she commented quietly. "Are you ready for it?"

Though he smiled, she couldn't help but notice the way his grip on her shoulders tightened just a little.

"I think so," he answered. "George told me two sessions ago that he felt I was ready to go back to active duty, so I don't think I have to worry about the report he'll give to Deakins. So, it's just my weapon proficiency that I have to worry about."

"_Are_ you worried about it?" Alex wondered, and Bobby laughed softly.

"A little," he admitted. "I was never the greatest shot. I think the last score I got was eighty-seven percent… That was about four or five weeks before I was taken. I remember Deakins calling me into his office and telling me I had to improve, or there might be issues when my next evaluation came round."

"You've been the shooting range regularly," Alex pointed out. "Every second day. You've been scoring all right, haven't you?"

"Some days I do better than others. Yesterday morning's effort was shocking… I only scored seventy-one percent."

"But the day before that, you got ninety-three percent," she countered. "There was nothing wrong with that effort."

"No," Bobby agreed, "but it might have some people questioning the discrepancy. And I don't particularly feel like explaining that I scored so badly yesterday because every time I looked at the target, I was seeing the face of a twelve year-old boy."

"Kyle?" Alex wondered, and Bobby nodded.

"Yes. I dreamt about him the night before. I just hope that I sleep well tonight, so that I'm in a good frame of mind for when I take the proficiency test tomorrow morning."

Alex couldn't quite keep a grin off her face.

"Well, I think we both know what we need to do then, don't we?"

Bobby looked down at her, and a moment later he grinned as well.

"Insatiable," he murmured, leaning down to kiss her on the forehead.

"Just performing my civic duty," she retorted, and he snorted in amusement.

"That's a new one. I'm just a civic duty, am I?"

"You're my partner. I need my partner back, and this city needs Goren and Eames. Do you have any clue how badly Major Case's solve rate dropped after you were taken?"

"So that would explain why the Commissioner was so enthusiastic about me being back?"

"One of the reasons," Alex conceded with a chuckle.

"Well… What can I say? It's nice to be appreciated."

She laughed outright at that, and hugged him tightly in a sudden surge of emotion.

"I love you, Bobby Goren. And I know you're going to do fine in that test tomorrow. I believe you'll be fine."

Bobby sighed and wrapped his arms around Alex.

"I love you too, Alex. Thankyou."

"For what?"

"For your faith in me. I don't know where I'd be without that… or you."

She tightened her grip around his waist.

"Ditto, Goren."

* * *

_Monday morning _

"Hey, where's Bobby?" Mike asked as he and Carolyn returned from interviewing a string of witnesses from their latest case, to find Alex alone at her desk and Bobby's chair unoccupied.

"In with the captain," Alex told them, not quite unable to mask her nerves. "It's D Day. The psyche report on Bobby from George Huang is in, plus Bobby was at the shooting range this morning doing a weapons proficiency test."

"It'll be fine, Alex," Carolyn assured her. "_He'll_ be fine."

Alex, however, couldn't conceal her worry, and it manifested in the way she chewed lightly on her lower lip.

"I hope you're right, Carolyn," she whispered. "I really hope do."

* * *

Bobby didn't think he had been so nervous since walking into the observation room to identify the woman who had been posing as Brigitte. It was nerve-wracking, sitting there while Deakins read slowly through George Huang's report, and with his ballistics test results still sitting unopened on the desk. He wanted desperately to get up and start pacing, to try and expend some of his nervous energy, but he kept himself in check.

He was reasonably confident that George had given him a positive report, but he didn't know that for absolute certain. Also, he didn't know how well he'd done in the weapons test. He'd felt confident enough while doing the test, but the way the tester had regarded him with a raised eyebrow when examining the results, and the way she'd slipped the results into an envelope and sealed it with that same raised eyebrow look had set his nerves on edge. He needed a bare minimum score of ninety percent to regain his active status. Anything lower would not be acceptable.

Bobby was starting to feel sick to his gut with the thought that perhaps he had not passed that ninety percent threshold.

He looked up slowly to find Deakins had set down the report from George, and was watching him.

"You're nervous," Deakins commented. It wasn't a question, and Bobby didn't try to deny it.

"Very," he admitted. Deakins smiled, then.

"That's good, Detective. I'd be more concerned if you weren't. Now, let's see here…"

Bobby's mouth went dry as Deakins picked up the test results and opened the envelope. The captain's face gave nothing away as he read through the test results. Minutes dragged by, and Bobby was becoming more agitated by the second until Deakins finally set the results down and leaned over to open one of his desk drawers. A moment later, he straightened up and set a gun and holster down on the desk in front of Bobby.

"Congratulations, Detective Goren," Deakins told him with a barely suppressed grin. "You're officially restored to active duty."

Even as Deakins watched, the tension literally bled out of Bobby. His shoulders slumped, and his breath escaped him in a rush as he finally relaxed.

"So… I scored all right?" he asked tremulously.

"Bobby, you scored ninety-eight percent," Deakins told him with a smile. "I think that's the best you've ever scored. And between that result, and George Huang's report, there's no need to enforce a probationary period for you. You're back on active duty, straight and simple. Well done."

Slowly, Bobby reached for the gun, and was brought up short when Deakins stretched his own hand out and closed it briefly over Bobby's.

"I know you still have to deal with it, Bobby. We all know that. Don't forget that we're here, okay? If you ever need to talk, don't be afraid to come to me, or Mike or Carolyn. George left a note in his report, too, to say that his door is always open to you. And, you have Alex…"

Bobby flushed red, but nodded in gratitude.

"Thankyou, Sir. I appreciate it."

Deakins sat back, smiling wryly at his detective.

"All right, then. Go on, back to work. And enjoy the peace while it lasts. Odds are you'll have a full case load before the week's over."

Nodding again, Bobby got up and strode out of the office, head held high.

* * *

He was so busy reattaching the holster to his belt as he exited the captain's office that he didn't realise the eyes of the entire squad were on him until someone shouted elatedly.

"Captain gave him his gun! Goren's back!"

Bobby looked up, both embarrassed and pleased as a cheer went up in response to the news. A moment later, Alex flew across the floor and threw her arms around him, not giving a damn who saw.

"I've got you back," she whispered, hugging him fiercely.

"Yeah," he murmured, returning the hug with equal enthusiasm. "You do."

* * *

_A couple of weeks later_

Deakins hadn't been wrong. Within a week of Bobby's return to active duty, he and Alex had a full case load. Neither was complaining, though. It was the most visible sign of a return to their lives before Bobby's abduction that they were being run off their feet again with murder investigations, and both were revelling in the chance to work side by side once more. Bobby, in particular, immersed himself back in the work just as he had once done nearly a year ago now, with one notable exception. While he still profiled the perpetrators as keenly and accurately, there was something different in his approach.

While Alex was the first one to notice it, as she was the one working with Bobby, it was Carolyn who was able to put it into words.

"He's learnt to understand them without getting inside their heads," she remarked when she and Alex went out for lunch a couple of weeks after Bobby's return to active duty.

"You mean he's not trying to do the mind meld thing," Alex retorted, and Carolyn grinned.

"You watch Star Trek with him last night, girl?"

Alex chuckled.

"Seriously, Carolyn, I like the change. Our first case was a bad one. I think Deakins was a little bit worried about dropping that one in Bobby's lap as his first case back, but he didn't have a choice. But Bobby… He got his head into the case… but he didn't let it take him over. It's like he's learnt where to draw that line, and not step over it. I know it's only been a week, but I hope he can maintain it. Before, a couple of weeks of dealing with a case like this would have had him at a bar with Mike getting smashed. But now, we go home, and he's managed to put everything that's happened through the day behind him, and just focus on us. He's managing that even better than me, and it used to be me who was better at doing that! Don't get me wrong, Carolyn, I'm not unhappy about it. Not at all! I just can't help thinking that in some ways, he's benefited from what happened to him." Alex sighed and shook her head. "And then I feel lousy for thinking that."

Carolyn regarded her bemusedly.

"Have you talked to him about it?"

Alex gave a short laugh.

"That's the other thing. He's as perceptive as ever. _He_ picked up on the fact that I was thinking that! I swear, it's like he's psychic!"

"What did he say?" Carolyn wondered. "Anything?"

"Not much, except to agree with me," Alex answered ruefully. "I don't know… I guess time will tell whether he ever drops back into old habits."

"Do you _want_ him to?" Carolyn asked, and Alex shrugged.

"Part of me says no, but part of me says yes, and I feel so guilty for that part of me that wants him to be exactly the same as before he was taken… No matter how screwed up he was."

"There's nothing to be ashamed of over that," Carolyn told her. "It's a comfort thing, Alex."

"I know," Alex murmured, "but I still feel bad. He's so happy now, Carolyn. He's got his confidence back finally… He's got his life back! And that threat is gone. He doesn't have to be afraid anymore. He's got his whole life in front of him, and no need to be constantly looking back over his shoulder. It's what he wanted when all of this started."

"He's not entirely over it, though," Carolyn pointed out.

"I know that," Alex agreed. "He still has nightmares… Some nights he has bad ones. I mean really bad ones. Two nights ago, he woke up screaming, and it took me five minutes to convince the neighbour that he didn't need to call the police. We _really_ need to get the walls in his apartment sound-proofed."

"What was it about?" Carolyn asked. "The nightmare, I mean."

"Sydney," Alex admitted grimly. "He dreams about Sydney a lot. It's the one aspect of his whole experience where he hasn't had any closure at all. And he's terrified that that bastard will come looking for him. He hates Sydney almost more than he hated Lyle and Raines, Carolyn… and he's definitely as frightened of him as he was of them."

"Just keep reminding him that we've got his back," Carolyn told her. "Whatever happens from now on, we've got his back."

"He knows that," Alex said. "And he's grateful. But at the same time, we can't forget that he's got his life to live. He doesn't want to live in fear. Not of Sydney, or the rest of them."

"There's a difference between being cautious, and being afraid," Carolyn reminded her.

Before Alex had a chance to reply, they were interrupted by Carolyn's cell phone ringing. She glanced at it, and rolled her eyes in mock irritation.

"It's Mike." She answered it, speaking tersely. "Do you have any idea what interrupting our lunch is going to cost you, Logan?"

The brief silence on the other end of the line almost had both women laughing before Mike regained his train of thought and spoke.

"_Sorry, ladies. But I thought you might want to get back here quick._"

Carolyn frowned. She did not like the sound of that.

"Why? What's wrong?"

"_Nothing's wrong_…_ At least, not for us. But there's gonna be one hell of a show here in the next fifteen to twenty. You might want to hot-foot it back if you don't want to miss it._"

"Damn it, Mike, what the hell are you going on about?" Carolyn demanded.

"_I'm talking about the son of a bitch sheriff that handed Bobby back over to the Centre after he escaped that time. Deakins tracked the bastard down, and between him and the Commissioner, they talked **our** DA's office into cooperating with the Delaware DA's office, and filing a charge of aiding and abetting in the unlawful detention of a police officer. The sheriff's being brought here right now, but he thinks he's getting a commendation for showing due diligence, or some bullshit like that. So if you don't wanna miss it, get your asses back here now!_"

The call ended, and Alex and Carolyn stared at each other in momentary shock before leaving a few bills on the table to cover their meals and bolting from the café.

* * *

They arrived back to an air of tense anticipation. Though all the detectives present appeared to be going about their duties as normal, it was easy enough to tell that they were waiting for something. The only member of the squad making no attempt at a pretence of working was Mike, and he strode over to the women as they walked back in to the squad room.

"Where's Bobby?" Alex asked, and Mike motioned towards Deakins' office. The shades were all drawn and the door closed, making it impossible to see inside.

"In there. Captain Deakins is in there with him, and so is Carver and Arthur Branch."

"Carver _and_ Branch?" Alex echoed. "But neither of them know what really happened to Bobby."

"They do now," Mike said. "Chief Harris is in there as well."

Carolyn whistled softly.

"That's some turn-around on Harris' part."

"Maybe," Mike agreed. "Personally, I think he damn well knows that he owes Bobby. Backing up Bobby's story to Branch and Carver is nothing in the grand scheme."

Alex walked over and sank into her seat.

"So when is this… _sheriff_ due to arrive?"

Mike paused, his gaze going to the entrance to the bullpen.

"Right now."

Both Alex and Carolyn looked to see a smug-looking man walk in, flanked by another man in an expensive-looking suit.

"Lawyer?" Carolyn wondered.

" ADA from Delaware," Mike corrected her. "He wouldn't have brought a lawyer with him. As far as he knows, he's here to get a pat on the back, not get a legal ass-kicking."

It seemed that Deakins had been watching for his arrival, for the door of his office opened, and he emerged with Harris, Carver and Branch all right behind him. Bobby remained behind in the office, well out of sight.

"Sheriff Morgan," Deakins greeted him, sounding amicable enough. And then, to the accompanying ADA, "Mr Roth. Thankyou both for coming."

Dennis Morgan looked around, and it was all Alex, in particular, could do to keep quiet at the arrogant look on his face.

"Well, it's our pleasure. When I heard you big city cops wanted to give us small-town boys a pat on the back, who was I to say no?"

Deakins glanced across at Branch, barely containing his disgust. Branch took the hint, and spoke coolly.

"Sheriff Morgan, exactly why do you believe you're here?"

"Well, it's something to do with apprehending a dangerous criminal some months back, isn't it?" Morgan answered. "Some fellow your big city detectives couldn't catch?"

"Let us refresh your memory, Sheriff Morgan," Harris said in a quiet, but authoritative voice. "Approximately ten months ago now, a truck driver brought a man to your station. A man that he'd found lying in the road. A man that you apparently wrote off pretty much straight away as a junkie."

Morgan shifted slightly, suddenly uncomfortable. Harris went on stonily.

"I'm glad we seem to have sufficiently jogged your memory. Let me go on. This man identified himself as a New York police officer.

"Well… It was ten months or so ago," Morgan stammered. "It's all a little hazy…"

"That wasn't a question," Harris snapped. "He identified himself as a police officer. He told you he'd been abducted, and he begged you to call his superior officer."

"Well…"

"Again, that was not a question," Harris cut him off. "But this is. What did you do then, Sheriff Morgan?"

Morgan froze, his face turning an ugly shade of ash.

"What did you do then?" Harris repeated. Morgan looked to his companion in visible growing panic.

"Joe? What the hell is going on here?"

"I suggest you answer the question, Dennis," Joe Roth answered quietly. Morgan looked back to Harris, swallowing hard.

"I… I figured he was just some junkie… or nutcase… who got loose from the asylum in the next town… that Centre place in Blue Cove. The guy didn't have any ID on him!"

"Because he was telling you the truth!" Deakins exploded. "You stupid son of a bitch, he really was a cop who'd been kidnapped!"

"H… How was I supposed to know that?" Morgan stammered.

"Perhaps if you'd done as he'd asked, and called his superior officer," Carver intoned in a very unforgiving voice, "then you _would _have known."

"What is this all about?" Morgan demanded to know. "Am I being charged with something?"

"We'll be charging you with aiding and abetting the abduction and unlawful detention of a police officer," Branch informed him. "And that's just to start with. But the reason you're here, right now… The reason we didn't just allow your own state to lay charges against on behalf of the state of New York, was because we wanted you to see with your own eyes the man that you so willingly turned back over to his abductors. Detective…?"

Bobby emerged from Deakins' office slowly, bracing himself as he came face to face with the sheriff who had so cruelly ended his one and only attempt at escaping the Centre's clutches. For his part, Morgan looked as though he was about to faint, and his mouth opened and closed like a guppy as he struggled for words that apparently were simply not going to come.

Bobby walked forward slowly, his face expressionless as he stared at the other man.

"Detective Goren," Branch said, "is this the same man who refused to assist you nine months ago?"

For nearly a full minute, Bobby said nothing. He simply stood there, staring into the face of the man who had turned him back over to the Centre. When he eventually spoke, it was in a toneless, emotionless voice. He was attempting to stay detached, Deakins realised, and he supposed he could understand that. It was easy to accept that Bobby might have felt a similar hatred for this man as he felt for Raines and Lyle.

"Yes," Bobby said softly. "This is him. I asked him to call Captain Deakins, because I knew the people I'd escaped from wouldn't be far behind me. He told me he'd contacted him, and that Captain Deakins would be on his way, but that was a lie."

"How did you know that, Detective?" Roth asked passively.

"He told me it took a long time to get through to Captain Deakins," Bobby answered, "because he was taking an extended coffee break. Captain Deakins rarely takes coffee breaks, and he _never_ took extended coffee breaks. I knew he was lying… but I realised it too late. I got out of there, but they were already outside… waiting for me."

"And how do you know that Sheriff Morgan was specifically responsible for turning you over to those people, Detective Goren?" Carver asked.

"Because when they were taking me away in the car, I saw Sheriff Morgan and Lyle. They were shaking hands, and I saw Lyle hand money to the sheriff."

"Now that's a damned lie!" Morgan exploded.

"Save your indignation," Branch cut him off sharply. "One of your deputies already gave you up there. Seemed he wasn't satisfied with the fifty dollars hush money you offered him, as opposed to the five thousand that _you_ pocketed."

Morgan turned an accusing stare on Roth.

"You know about this, you son of a bitch."

"Yes," Roth admitted, "but allowing them to proceed with any charges hinged directly on Detective Goren positively identifying you. Now that he has, the New York District Attorney's office can proceed to lay charges against you."

Branch looked across at Deakins."

"Captain? Would you care to do the honours?"

Deakins smiled grimly.

"I'd be delighted." Walking around, he took out his handcuffs, and proceeded to cuff Morgan's hands behind his back. "Dennis Morgan, you are under arrest for aiding and abetting in the abduction of a police officer. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you do say may be held against you in a court of law…"

Morgan turned the full force of his hate-filled glare on Bobby, who didn't so much as flinch in the face of it.

"They should've just killed you."

"I'd be very careful about what you say, Mr Morgan," Harris said quietly. "You're in Detective Goren's house now, sir, and I can assure you that his colleagues are intensely loyal to him."

Morgan glanced around, and blanched at the open hostility that was focused in his direction from every detective in the squad room. He fell silent, smart enough to sense a very real threat from a squad who, as Harris had said, was intensely loyal to their colleague.

Multiple pairs of eyes stayed fixed on Morgan for the entire time that it took to read him his rights, and escort him out of the Major Case squad room. Only when he was gone from their sight did the squad detectives return to what they had all been doing.

"Thankyou," Bobby said to Branch, Carver, Harris and Roth. Roth nodded placidly.

"Thank_you_, Detective. We've had suspicions about Morgan for some time, but we were never able to prove that he was dirty. I'm just sorry that you had to suffer in the way that you did. I hope this arrest will contribute in some small way to your piece of mind."

"It will," Bobby confirmed. "If nothing else, at least I know he'll never do that to anyone else."

"He won't," Branch assured him. "With the number of charges we have lined up to hit him with, and the fact that the offences were committed against a cop, it's going to be a very long time before he sees the light of day again outside prison walls."

Branch then exited the squad room, with the others close behind. Once they were gone, Deakins clapped Bobby lightly on the back as Alex, Mike and Carolyn came over to join him.

"How are you feeling, Detective?"

Bobby smiled as Alex stepped in close to embrace him, and he answered softly but surely.

"Free."

* * *

_That night _

It was after midnight. Bobby wasn't exactly certain what time it was. He hadn't bothered to check the alarm clock. All he knew was that it was after midnight. He lay silently for a while, staring into the darkness while at the same time enjoying the comforting sensation of Alex's warm body cuddled up against him.

His choice of phrase to Deakins that afternoon hadn't been a fabrication. He _did_ feel free at last, and seeing Morgan taken away in handcuffs had only reinforced that feeling. He wasn't going to kid himself that it was over, though. He knew there would still be nightmares aplenty, and memories that might catch him off-guard… and then was Sydney.

More than anything, he dreaded an encounter with Sydney, if only because he simply didn't know how he would react. The last thing he needed was to find himself facing a murder or manslaughter charge because he just pulled out his gun and shot the sorry son of a bitch, but he had to accept that that was what might just happen if the psychiatrist ever tried to approach him.

Bobby sighed softly. He hated even thinking about Sydney, and yet his subconscious seemed as though it would not be deterred. Frustrated, Bobby gently detached himself from Alex, and slipped out of bed. Dressing quickly, he spared Alex a last, affectionate look before silently exiting the apartment.

* * *

The night air was cold, but not bitterly so. Still, Bobby was grateful he had thought to grab his coat before heading up to the roof. Wrapping the garment firmly around his body – it fitted much more loosely now than it had before his abduction, he noted subconsciously – he walked over to the edge of the roof, and looked out at the many lights of the city.

"You've got a pretty good view from up here."

Bobby showed no surprise at all at the voice, even though he'd had no idea when he came up that he wasn't alone.

"I know," he answered calmly. "And since no one else in the building ever comes up here, it's a good place to come and think."

There was movement at his side, and he finally turned his head to find himself looking at Jarod.

"I hear you've been… finding closure," Jarod remarked quietly, and Bobby smiled wryly.

"In a manner of speaking. You know that Lyle and Raines…"

"Are dead? Yes. I heard. I heard that it was self defence."

"They tried to kill me," Bobby answered simply. "Lyle shot my brother. My colleagues… repelled borders."

"And Sheriff Morgan. That must have been quite a sight, the look on his face when he saw you."

Bobby laughed, then.

"It was pretty satisfying," he admitted. He paused, throwing Jarod a curious look. "The Delaware ADA said one of his deputies gave Morgan up over the hand-out Lyle gave him. You wouldn't have had anything to do with that, would you?"

"I might have poked at his conscience a little," Jarod conceded. Bobby sighed.

"Well, thankyou. It was reassuring to see him arrested."

"What now, then?" Jarod asked. "Now you've closed the book on the Centre…"

"Not entirely, I haven't. I'll always have to live with the memories. I won't forget again. I can't."

"That's important," Jarod agreed.

"Yeah… Well, after the last time, I don't need another shock like the one I had when you… helped me to remember."

"I'm not going to apologise for that. You needed to remember."

"I don't dispute that," Bobby assured him. "But, your bedside manner sucked."

Both men laughed softly, and for a while they stood side by side in silence, looking out at the city.

"Have you talked to him recently?"

Jarod hesitated, eyeing Bobby thoughtfully. He was fairly sure he knew who Bobby meant, but he wanted Bobby to say the name.

"Who, Bobby?"

The frustration and irritation appeared quickly on Bobby's face.

"Don't play games with me, Jarod. You know who I mean."

"I know, but I want you to say his name."

" Sydney," Bobby snapped. "Have you talked to Sydney recently?"

"Yes, I have," Jarod confirmed. "I talked to him two weeks ago. He asked if I knew how you were doing."

"Did he? And what did you tell him?"

"I told him you were taking your life back," Jarod answered. "I told him again to stay away from you."

"But he won't. Will he?"

"Not forever, no," Jarod said softly. "You need to be prepared, Bobby. He's going to contact you at some point. He won't be able to help himself."

Bobby looked sceptically at his fellow Pretender.

"Please don't try to convince me that he's just concerned about me."

"I'd like to, but I know that you won't believe it," Jarod replied. "He does, though, whether you want to accept it or not."

"_Not_," Bobby said heatedly. Jarod sighed.

"Promise me one thing, Bobby?"

"What?"

"That if he does ever contact you, at least try to listen to him?"

Bobby stood stiffly for a long minute before conceding grudgingly.

"I'll try. I can't promise anymore than that."

Jarod nodded, satisfied.

"Good enough."

"In answer to your question," Bobby went on finally, "now I get back to where I was before all of this happened. Now, I get to be a detective again."

"You're content with that, aren't you?" Jarod wondered, and Bobby nodded, exuding a fresh enthusiasm that made Jarod grin.

"Yes. It's who I am."

"So the wheel has turned, and you're back to where you were twelve months ago. The same as before?"

"No," Bobby corrected him. "I'm not the same as I was. I don't think I'll ever be the same as I was… but that's not necessarily a bad thing."

"You've come a long way."

"We both have, Jarod. Same journey, different pathways. You have your family, and I have mine."

Jarod nodded in agreement.

"Why don't you go back inside, Bobby? She's waiting for you."

Bobby smiled faintly.

"Maybe I will." He turned away from the edge of the roof to face Jarod head on. "I never really thanked you for everything you did for me."

"You don't have to," Jarod told him. "Brothers shouldn't have to thank each other."

"Take care of yourself, Jarod," Bobby murmured, stepping in to embrace the other man fiercely. "And if you ever need help…"

"I'll know where to come," Jarod confirmed, returning the hug with enthusiasm. "You take care, too, Bobby. I'll be seeing you."

Bobby drew back, a wry smile on his lips.

"I hope so."

Then, with a last look at Jarod, Bobby headed back inside.

* * *

Alex stirred as Bobby slipped back into the warm bed, and she looked up at him with sleep-heavy eyes.

"You okay?"

He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her in close and kissing her softly on the mouth before settling down beside her.

"I'm fine," he whispered, and meant it.

* * *

_Fin._


End file.
